PS 
3302 
R24 
1909 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


REBECCA 

OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM 


By  KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGIN 
and  CHARLOTTE  THOMPSON 


MRS,  PARTRIDGE  PRESENTS, 

Comedy  in  3  acts.     By  Mary  Kennedy  and  Ruth  Haw 
,-.    6  males,  6  females.    Modern  costumes.     2  interior*. 

.  l-i  hours,      p, 

The    characters,    scenes    and    situations    are    thoroughly    up-te 

';•  this  altogether  delightful  American  comedy.     The  heroin* 

ie  a  •woman  of  tremendous   energy,   who  manages  a   business — at 

she  manages   everything — with   great    success,   and    at   home    pr» 

over   the    destinies    of    a    growing    son    and    daughter. 

1?   to   give    the    children    the    opportunities    she    herself   had 

!.  and  the  children's  ultimate  revolt  against  her  well-meant 

management — that  is  the  basis  of  the  plot.     The  son  who  is  caei 

for  the  part  of  artist  and  the  daughter  who  is  to  go  on  the  stage 

offer   numerous   opportunities   for   the   development    ol    the    comie 

possibilities  In  the  the 

The  play  is  one  of  the  most-  delightful,  yet  thought-provoking 
American  comedies  of  recent  years,  and  is  warmly  recommended 
Jo  all  amateur  groups.  (Royalty  on  application.)  Price,  76  Oenhfc 


IN  THE  NEXT  ROOM 

Melodrama  in  3  acts.  By  Eleanor  Robson  and  Harriet 
Ford.  8  males,  3  females.  2  interiors.  Modern  costume* 
Plays  2H  hours. 

"Philip  Vantine  has  bought  a  rare  copy  of  an  original  Boulf 
cabinet  and  ordered  it  shipped  to  his  New  York  home  from  Fsrit 
When  it  arrives  it  is  found  to  be  the  original  itself,  the  pos- 
session of  which  is  desired  by  many  strange  people.  Before  th* 
mystery  concerned  with  the  cabinet's  shipment  can  be  i 
up,  two  persons  meet  mysterious  death  fooling  with  it  and  th* 
happiness  of  many  otherwise  happy  actors  is  threatened"  (Burni 
Mantle),  A  first-rate  mystery  play,  comprising  al!  the  element* 
Of  suspense,  cariosity,  comedy  and  drama.  "In  the  Next  I< 
U  quite  easy  to  stage.  It  can  be  unreservedly  recommended  tt 
kigfa  schools  and  aolleger  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.) 

Price,  TS  Centt 


SAMUEL  FRKNCH,  W  W*rt  Wth  Street,  New  York  Ctty 
New  and  BxpHcit  DwcrlpttTe  Catalogue  Mailed  Free  on  Beqoert 


REBECCA  OF 
SUNNYBROOK  FARM 

A  STATE  O'  MAINE  PLAY 
IN  FOUR  ACTS 

BY 
KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGIN 

AND 

CHARLOTTE  THOMPSON 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY  KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGIN  AND 
CHARLOTTE  THOMPSON 

BASED  UPON  THE  NOVEL,  "REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM," 
COPYRIGHT,  1903,  BY  KATE  DOUGLAS  RIGGS  ,  COPYRIGHT, 
1910,  BY  HOUGHTON  MlFFLIN  COMPANY  ,  COPYRIGHT 
RENEWED,  1931,  BY  NORA  ARCHIBALD  SMITH  ;  AND 
UPON  "NEW  CHRONICLES  OF  REBECCA,"  COPYRIGHT, 
1906  AND  1907,  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNERS'  SONS  ,  COPY- 
RIGHT, 1907,  BY  KATE  DOUGLAS  RIGGS. 

All   Rights   Reserved 

CAUTION:  Professionals  and  amateurs  are  hereby  warned  that 
"REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM,"  being  fully  protected 
under  the  copyright  laws  of  the  United  States  of  America,  the 
British  Empire,  including  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  and  the 
other  countries  of  tbe  Copyright  Union,  is  subject  to  a  royalty, 
and  anyone  presenting  the  play  in  whole  or  in  part,  in  any 

their  authorized  agents  will  be  liable  to  the  penalties  by  law 
provided.  Applications  for  the  stage  production  rights  must  be 
made  to  Alice  Kauser,  at  152  West  42nd  Street,  New  York  City, 
and  for  the  amateur  rights  to  Samuel  French,  at  25  West  45th 
Street,  New  York  City,  or  at  811  West  7th  Street,  Los  Angeles, 
Calif. 

SAMUEL   FRENCH,    INC. 

25  WEST  45TH  STREET,  NEW  YORK,  N.  Y. 

811  WEST  TTH  STREET,  Los  ANGELES,  CALIF. 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  LTD. 
26  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET,  STRAND,  W.C.2,  LONDON 


'REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM" 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


Especial  notice  should  be  taken  that  the  possession  of  this 
book  without  a  valid  contract  for  production  first  having 
b-  en  obtained  from  the  publisher  confers  no  right  or  license 
to  professionals  or  amateurs  to  produce  the  play  publicly  or 
in  private  for  gain  or  charity. 

In  its  present  form  this  play  is  dedicated  to  the  reading 
public  only,  and  no  performance,  representation,  production, 
recitation,  public  reading  or  radio  broadcasting  may  be  given 
except  by  special  arrangement  with  Samuel  French,  at  25 
West  45th  Street,  New  York  City,  or  at  811  West  7th  Street, 
Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

This  play  may  be  presented  by  amateurs  upon  payment  of 
a  royalty  of  Twenty-Five  Dollars  for  each  performance,  pay- 
able to  Samuel  French,  at  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York, 
or  at  811  West  7th  Street,  Los  Angeles,  Calif.,  one  week 
before  the  date  when  the  play  is  given. 

Whenever  the  play  is  produced  the  following  notice  must 
appear  on  all  programs,  printing  and  advertising  for  the 
play :  "Produced  by  special  arrangement  with  Samuel  French." 

Attention  is  called  to  the  penalty  provided  by  law  for  any 
infringement  of  the  author's  rights,  as  follows: 

"SECTION  4966: — Any  person  publicly  performing  or  repre- 
senting any  dramatic  or  musical  composition  for  which  copy- 
right has  been  obtained,  without  the  consent  of  the  proprietor 
of  said  dramatic  or  musical  composition,  or  his  heirs  and 
assigns,  shall  be  liable  for  damages  thereof,  such  damages  in 
all  cases  to  be  assessed  at  such  sum,  not  less  than  one  hun- 
dred dollars  for  the  first  and  fifty  dollars  for  every  subse- 
quent performance,  as  to  the  court  shall  appear  to  be  just. 
If  the  unlawful  performance  and  representation  be  wilful  and 
for  profit,  such  person  or  persons  shall  be  guilty  of  a  mis- 
demeanor, and  upon  conviction  shall  be  imprisoned  for  a  period 
not  exceeding  one  year."— U.  S.  Revised  Statutes:  Title  60 
Chap.  3. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America  by 
THE  RICHMOND  HILL  RECORD,  RICHMOND  HILL,  N.  Y. 


The  following  is  a  copy  of  program  of  the  first  perform- 
ance of  "REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM,"  as  pro- 
duced at  the  Republic  Theatre,  New  York, 

KLAW  AND  ERLANGER 

Present 
"REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM" 

A  Comedy  in  Four  Acts 

By  KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGIN 
and  CHARLOTTE  THOMPSON 

Adapted  from  Mrs.  Wiggin's  Rebecca  Book 
CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 

MIRANDA  SAWYER Marie  L.  Day 

JANE  SAWYER Eliza  Glassford 

MRS.  PERKINS Ada  Deaves 

MRS.  SIMPSON Viola  Fortescue 

REBECCA  ROWENA  RANDALL Edith  Taliaferro 

EMMA  JANE  PERKINS Lorraine  Frost 

CLARA  BELLE  SIMPSON Violet  Mersereau 

MINNIE  SMELLIE Kathryn  Bryan 

ALICE  ROBINSON  Etta  Bryan 

JEREMIAH  COBB Archie  Boyd 

ABNER  SIMPSON  Sam  Coit 

ABIJAH  FLAGG Ernest  Truex 

ADAM  LADD Ralph  Kellard 

SYNOPSIS  OF  SCENES 

ACT  I.  SCENE  I.  .At  the  Brick  House,  Riverboro.  The 

dooryard.   Haying  time. 

SCENE  II.    Cobb's  kitchen.     Immediately  fol- 
lowing. 
ACT  II.   fhe  Ladds*  cottage;  the  garden  and  the  road. 

s       North  Riverboro.  Autumn. 
ACT  III.  The  Sawyers'  barn.  Harvest  time. 
ACT  IV.  At  the  Brick  House.   Three  years  later.   The 

front  steps. 

PLACE  :  State  of  Maine. 
TIME:  About  thirty  years  ago. 


\ 


DESCRIPTION  OF  CHARACTERS 

\/  MIRANDA  :    A  vigorous,  business-like,  acid-tongued 

.         New  England  old  maid. 
fc?   JANE:     About   forty-five,    slight,   sweet-faced   and 

gentle. 

\PX'MRS.  PERKINS:  Is  fifty,  cheerful,  plump,  gossipy, 
the  well-meaning  wife  of  the  village  blacksmith; 
wears  plain  cotton  dress  without  hat,  but  nothing 
fantastic  about  her. 

MRS.  SIMPSON  :  About  thirty-five,  pale,  timid,  shab- 
bily but  neatly  dressed;  the  frail,  nervous,  re- 
fined Nezv  England  type.    Must  be  sympathetic 
and  never  a  whining  character. 
'-i/  REBECCA  :    An   emotional,   high-strung,   dark   little 

creature,  "going  on"  thirteen. 
t  ./EMMA  JANE  :  A  pretty,  plump  girl  with  short  brown 

curly  hair — unintelligent  but  amiable. 
y.  CLARA  BELLE:   Red-haired  and  freckled,  and  has  a 
refined,    likeable   face.     Is   poorly    but   neatly 
dressed. 

,  y MINNIE:  Very  blonde,  must  be  made  up  to  look 
colorless,  selfish  and  meddlesome.  Has  a  ner- 
vous habit  of  rubbing  her  nose  with  her  fore- 
finger and  then  her  chin  in  the  same  way. 
ALICE  :  A  pretty  child  with  golden  curls;  pulls  a  curl 
out  straight  and  lets  it  jump  back  into  curl  re- 
peatedly. 

/CoBB :  A  man  of  sixty,  with  kind,  cheery,  benevolent, 
^/  rosy,  tanned  face.  He  shifts  a  quid  of  tobacco  now 
and  then  from  one  cheek  to  the  other.  He  wears  a 
weather-beaten,  broad-brimmed  straw  hat  and  a 
linen  duster — or  a  short  seersucker  coat  pre- 
ferred. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  CHARACTERS 


A  tall,  lanky,  ne'er-do-well  type. 
ABIJAH  :  A  young,  attractive-looking  country  boy. 

About  thirty.  Though  cosmopolitan,  there  is 
a  lack  of  identity  between  him  and  his  present 
surroundings.  He  is  never  the  "city  swell"  and 
never  quite  alien  to  his  past  —  his  country  boy- 
hood. He  has  the  simple  earnestness  and  direct- 
ness of  a  big,  generous  nature  and  later  on  re- 
veals the  touch  of  poetry  and  romance  that  wins 
REBECCA'S  sympathy  and  affection.  He  is  well 
but  simply  dressed  —  every  inch  a  man. 


Rebecca  of  Sunnybrook  Farm 


ACT  ONE 

SCENE:   At  the  Brick  House,  Riverboro. 

The  back  or  side  door  yard.  Back  of  house, 
with  covered  working  porch  and  steps  R.  Suffi- 
ciently projected  to  show  one  dining-room  win- 
dow (practical)  around  forward  corner,  with 
garden  beds.  The  porch  leads  through  a  spring 
screen  door  to  the  kitchen  (practical  platform), 
partly  seen  through  four  windows  that  also  give 
upon  the  porch.  They  are  opened  and  screened. 
The  upper  half  of  a  hall  clock  stands  on  a  chair, 
evidently  having  been  set  there  temporarily. 

Above  the  porch  roof  (second  story)  of  this 
low  wall,  and  giving  upon  it,  is  a  bedroom  win- 
dow (practical)  so  built  that  one  may  step  out 
upon  it  and  climb  down  into  the  dooryard  by 
means  of  the  roof  and  a  vine  trellis  fastened 
against  the  upstage  corner  of  porch-post. 

The  woodshed  (practical)  L.  Down  L.C.  a 
gnarled  and  spreading  apple  tree  c.,  heavy  foli- 
age. Two  chairs,  a  grindstone  and  a  table  under 
its  shade. 

The  fence  and  gate,  overlooking  and  leading 
to  the  road,  are  back  up  stage,  at  right  angles  to 
house  and  sheds,  and  disappearing,  evidently 
continuing  behind  them. 
5 


6         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

In  the  garden,  beds  under  window,  around 
the  porch,  against  the  fence,  barberry  bushes  are 
growing.  Woodbine  and  hop  vines  clamber  over 
porch  and  sheds. 

The  road  is  bordered  with  shade  trees — elms 
and  maples.  Beyond  the  road  (back  drop)  a 
clover  field  joins  a  hay  field  that  drifts  into  river 
and  mountain  distance.  Drop  painted  for  light 
effects  on  river. 

Before  rise,  the  CHOPPING  of  wood  is 
heard. 

DISCOVERED  :  ABIJAH  FLAGG  chopping  wood  at  the 
woodshed  door. 

MRS.  SIMPSON  on  porch  cleaning  window, 
giving  the  final  polish  to  the  window.  MRS. 
SIMPSON  is  about  thirty-five,  pale,  timid,  shab- 
bily but  neatly  dressed — the  frail,  nervous,  re- 
fined New  England  type. 

The  shade  form  of  MIRANDA  SAWYER  is  seen 
through  the  screen  door  and  kitchen  windows, 
moving  about  briskly,  occasionally  slatting  pans. 

SIMPSON  discovered  at  table  with  clock. 

TIME  :  It  is  late  afternoon.  Work  LIGHTS  to  sun- 
set and  a  thunder  shower. 

ABIJAH.  (By  wood  pile;  stops  with  axe  over  shoul- 
der; puts  axe  down)  How  you  getting  on,  Simp- 
son? (MIRANDA  slats  pan.) 

SIMPSON.  (Has  clock  on  chair  on  R.  of  table)  AH 
right,  Bije.  (MIRANDA  slats.) 

ABIJAH.  Miss  Sawyer  says  that  clock's  gone  for 
fifty  years  an'  it'll  go  another  fifty  if  you  don't  in- 
terfere with  it  too  much. 

SIMPSON.  Don't  you  be  a  bit  scairt.  I've  had  every 
clock  in  Riverboro  all  to  pieces  and  never  spoiled 
one  of  'em.  (MRS.  SIMPSON  goes  to  R.  of  SIMPSON. 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  7 

MIRANDA  slats.  With  a  sly  wink  at  ABIJAHJ  Some- 
times I  mix  parts  up  a  little,  mebbe,  but  they  kind  o' 
like  that — makes  'em  take  notice,  an'  go  better'n 
ever. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (On  R.  of  SIMPSON — timidly)  She 
sets  a  heap  o'  store  by  that  clock,  Abner.  (MIRANDA 
slats.) 

SIMPSON.  (Sitting  to  his  work,  while  MRS.  SIMP- 
SON sets  pail  under  pump  spout  and  begins  to  pump. 
SIMPSON  takes  small  screw-driver  out  of  pocket.  To 
MIRANDA,)  I  may  hev  to  reg'late  'er  an'  scrape  an' 

patch  'er  up  some  inside,  Miss  Sawyer,  but 

(With  a  sarcastic  emphasis)  I  can  do  all  the  litterin' 
out  here,  just's  well's  not!  (ALL  laugh.  SIMPSON 
sets  to  his  work)  From  what  I've  heard  about  'em 
seence  I  come  to  this  con-sarned  tight-fisted  village, 
I  never  expected  to  see  the  Sawyer  girl  payin'  out 
money  for  help — and  there's  three  of  us  workin'  to 
once. 

ABIJAH.  Oh,  I  ain't  hired — worse  luck — I'm  just 
lent!  Mirandy  told  the  Squire  last  night  she  was 
'bout  tuckered  out  with  work,  and  he  sent  me  down 
to  chop  some  wood  for  'em.  They  ain't  use't  havin' 
visitors  an'  they're  takin'  it  kind  o'  hard. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (Stops  pumping)  Vis'tors?  Are 
they  goin'  to  hev  vis'tors? 

ABIJAH.  (Tilting  his  hat  back)  Ain't  you — heard? 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (Coming  down  R.C.  ;  leaves  bucket 
at  pump)  We  ain't  heard  anything. 

ABIJAH.  Well,  I  swan ! 

SIMPSON.  (Surlily)  They  ain't's  neighborly  with 
us  in  this  village's  they  might  be.  Who's  coming  ? 

ABIJAH.  (Cheerfully,  still  failing  to  tell)  Mebbe 
you  both  knew  'er — wouldn't  wonder  if  you  both  did 
— you  lived  over  "Temp'rance"  way  for  a  spell,  didn't 
you?  (At  the  word  "Temp'rance"  SIMPSON  looks 
up.  MRS.  SIMPSON  makes  some  impulsive,  startled 
movement,  then  stands  quite  still.) 


8         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

SIMPSON.  (Doggedly,  going  on  with  his  work) 
'Bout  four  years — an'  'bout  four  years  too  long. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (Nervously)  Is — is  somebody 
comin'  from  Temp'rance? 

ABIJAH.  (Cheerfully)  Comin'  to  stop  for  a  long 
spell,  too.  (MRS.  SIMPSON  is  more  nervous.  SIMP- 
SON more  dogged.  ABIJAH  chuckles)  — to  git  re- 
ligion an'  edication  an'  be  otherwise  set  on  the 
straight  and  narrer. 

SIMPSON.    (Quickly,  brightening)    A  young  one? 

ABIJAH.  One  o'  their  nieces  from  Sunnybrook 
Farm — Rebeccy,  I  think  they  called  her. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (All  MRS.  SIMPSON'S  nervousness 
drops  away — the  reaction  makes  her^  a  bit  over-joy- 
ful— still  in  her  timid  way.  Beaming)  Little  Re- 
becca ! 

SIMPSON.  Comin'  to  stop  in  the  Brick  House — to 

be  set  on  the  straight  an' (Breaks  off,  laughs, 

guffaw)  They  can  set  Rebeccy  on  any  path  they're 
mind  to — specially  if  there's  any  explorin'  to  be  done 
— but  when  she  starts  movin'  there  ain't  any  narrer 
path  that'll  hold  her. 

ABIJAH.  Wild,  eh? 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  She  was  only  a  mite  o'  a  thing 
when  we  saw  her  last 

SIMPSON.  (Interrupting)  But  wilder'n  a  March 
hare. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (To  ABIJAH — quickly)  Not  bad, 
or  anything  like  that — land,  no ! 

SIMPSON.  (Breaking  into  above  speech,  ignoring 
MRS.  SIMPSONJ  No,  there  wan't  nobody  in  Temp'- 
rance 't  didn't  like  her,  from  the  tin  peddler  to  the 
parson 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  Or  anybody  she  wan't  friendly 
with,  for  the  matter  o'  that 

SIMPSON.  She's  the  beatenest  young  one  in  the 
whole  State  o'  Maine — an'  she  won't  any  more  fit 
inter  this  Brick  House  than  Perkins'  new  colt. 


ACT  i         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  9 

(Enter  MIRANDA  from  house  suddenly,  carrying  a 
shining  pan  of  freshly  washed  dish-towels.  The 
door  bangs  after  her,  her  sharp  eyes  tell  the  three 
they've  been  gossiping  and  she  knows  it,  and 
they  are  not  being  paid  to  be  idle.  MRS.  SIMP- 
SON hastily  picks  up  her  bucket.  ABIJAH  is  seri- 
ously studying  the  edge  of  his  axe,  as  though 
blaming  that  for  idleness.  SIMPSON  is  quietly 
amused.  MIRANDA  goes  between  tree  and  table, 
and  slats  pan  on  table.  ABIJAH  and  MRS.  SIMP- 
SON start.  MRS.  SIMPSON  goes  toward  house 
with  bucket.) 

MIRANDA.  (To  MRS.  SIMPSON,  tartly)  Put  one 
of  those  braided  mats  under  that  pail,  so's  not  to  wet 
the  carpet. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (Timidly,  crossing  to  steps) 
Yes'm. 

MIRANDA.  (Setting  a  chair  back  under  apple  tree 
•with  a  bang — while  JANE  SAWYER  comes  out  of 
kitchen  with  a  covered  earthen  crock — she  places 
crock  on  table  on  porch.  MRS.  SIMPSON  labors  up 
the  steps  with  her  full  pail  as  rapidly  as  possible  and 
disappears  into  kitchen,  while  MIRANDA  turns  to 
ABIJAH,  not  a  zvhit  deceived  by  his  study  of  the  axe 
edge.  To  ABIJAH,  while  SIMPSON  grows  more 
amused)  An'  you  might's  well  be  fillin'  the  kitchen 
woodbox,  Abijah.  (Sets  another  chair  L.  of  table 
with  a  bang)  There's  nothin'  like  movin'  'bout  for 
restin'  the  back.  (ABIJAH,  gathering  up  an  armful 
of  wood,  exits  into  house.  MIRANDA,  as  ABIJAH 
exits,  picks  up  towel  from  pan,  snaps  it  out  sharply — 
hangs  it  on  a  barberry  L.  SIMPSON  shakes  head  and 
wipes  mouth  as  if  spray  from  towel  had  struck  him.) 

SIMPSON.  (As  MIRANDA'S  back  is  turned,  with  a 
knowing  look  of  intended  deviltry)  Anybody  been 
joggling  this  clock? 

MIRANDA.  (Going  back  to  table)  There  ain't  any- 


io       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

body  to  joggle  things  in  this  house.  (Another  towel, 
another  slam — same  business  by  SIMPSON.  MIRANDA 
goes  to  R.  and  spreads  towel  out  on  bush.) 

SIMPSON.  You  ain't  goin'  to  keep  it  under  the 
stairs  from  this  on,  are  ye? 

MIRANDA.  It's  stood  there  for  fifty  years — where 
should  I  keep  it?  (Back  to  table.  Is  about  to  select 
another  towel  from  the  pan.) 

SIMPSON.  That's  all  very  well  where  ther  ain't  no 
children  in  the  house — but  you  git  a  lively  young  un 

cataractin'  down  stairs (MIRANDA  clutches  towel 

rigidly)  — an'  this  clock  won't  know  whether  it's  a- 
foot  or  a-horseback.  These  old  works  can't  stand  a 
mite  o'  jarrin' !  (Pretends  to  be  absorbed  in  some 
careful  adjustment.  MIRANDA  nervously  picks  up 
and  drops  towels.  SIMPSON  looks  up  at  her  sud- 
denly. She  clutches  a  towel  quickly,  snaps  it,  takes 
another,  about  to  snap  it.  SIMPSON  ducks.  She  snaps 
it,  goes  to  R.  and  spreads  both  tozvels  on  bush  by 
house.  SIMPSON  continuing  to  rub  it  in,  while  JANE 
comes  down  from  porch,  having  left  crock  there; 
crosses  to  table,  sits  in  chair  L.  Takes  work-basket 
and  sews  on  a  little  red  tomato  pincushion.  ABIJAH 
comes  out;  goes  to  woodpile)  I  fixed  a  clock  like 
this  for  your  sister,  over  Temp'rance  way.  An'  when 

I  opened  the  case — what  should  I  see (Breaks 

off,  laughing.  MIRANDA  halts  in  her  work.)  Ha — ha 
— hanging  to  the  pendulum — but  a  rag  doll !  (ABI- 
JAH laughs.) 

MIRANDA.  (Incredulously)  Stop  your  laughing, 
Bije — a  rag  doll!  (SIMPSON  picks  up  clock.  MIR- 
ANDA is  by  this  time  strident  with  nerves.  SIMPSON 
goes  toward  house;  stops  R.C.  MIRANDA  at  L.cJ 
Carry  it  stiddy,  if  you  please — an'  fit  me  a  key  to 
the  case  door.  I  guess,  after  Rebecca's  had  a  few 
days'  experience  with  me,  she  aren't  likely  to  be 
hangin'  rag  dolls  on  my  penderlums.  (Snaps — hangs 
towels  on  bush  R.  Goes  back  to  table  and  gets  an- 


ACT  i         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          II 

other  towel.  ABIJAH,  enjoying  MIRANDA'S  evident 
discomfiture,  moves  toward  house  with  an  armful  of 
kindling.) 

SIMPSON.  (Chuckling,  moving  toward  steps  R.) 

Mebbe  not (Doubtful  tone)  — but  there's  noth- 

in'  like  a  young  one  for  keepin'  things  stirred  up 
and  lively. 

MIRANDA.  (Goes  to  R. ;  hangs  another  towel  on 
bush;  positively)  She  ain't  been  asked  here  to  keep 
things  lively. 

SIMPSON.  (Halting  on  steps)  She'll  keep  'em 
lively  just  the  same!  (At  last  nod  at  MIRANDA, 
exeunt  ABIJAH  and  SIMPSON  into  house  R.) 

MIRANDA.  (As  SIMPSON  exits,  raising  her  voice 
to  be  sure  to  be  heard)  What  me  an'  Jane  needs  at 
our  time  of  life  is  peace  and  quiet — an'  we  mean  to 
have  it,  Rebecca  or  no  Rebecca!  (Stands  back  of 
table;  mutters  to  herself;  slams  pan  on  table)  Hang- 
ing rag  dolls  on  pendulums Aurelia  may  have 

it  in  her  house  but  I  won't  have  it  in  mine.  (Mutters 
to  herself;  sits  in  chair  R.  of  table)  Cataractin'  down 

stairs (Sits  in  chair.  JANE  watches  MIRANDA 

apprehensively.  The  tomato  cushion  is  still  in  JANE'S 
hands.  MIRANDA  to  JANE,  as  she  takes  the  basket) 
Read  Aurelia's  letter  again.  I  got  such  a  shock  when 
it  came  I  ain't  't  all  sure  what  she  said. 

JANE.  (Obediently  takes  AURELIA'S  letter  from 
her  pocket  and  reads.  She  is  about  forty-five,  slight, 
sweet-faced  and  gentle.  Reading)  "My  dear  Sisters 
Miranda  and  Jane " 

MIRANDA.  We  wan't  so  dear  but  what  she  ran 
away  and  left  us  for  that  good-for-nothin'  popinjay, 
Lorenzo  de  Medici  Randall.  His  name  was  enough. 
They  say  he  had  foreign  blood  in  him — I  could  al- 
most think  it,  the  way  he  acted.  If  folks  must  marry, 
why  can't  they  stick  to  York  County  stock? 

JANE.  If  they  did,  there'd  be  precious  few.  mar- 
riages. 


12        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

MIRANDA.  So  much  the  better.  See  how  this  one 
turned  out,  seven  children  and  a  farm  mortgaged  up 
to  the  handle. 

JANE.    (Reading)    "I  was  so  glad " 

MIRANDA.  Never  mind  the  first  part.  Read  what 
she  says  about  sending  Rebecca? 

JANE.  (Reading)  "I'm  sorry,  as  you  seem  to  pre- 
fer her,  that  Hannah  can't  be  spared  for  a  few  years 
yet — but  Rebecca  will  come  as  soon  as  she  can  get 
ready.  The  regular  schooling  and  church  privileges 

will  doubtless  be  the  making  of  her "  (Folds 

letter;  puts  it  back  in  pocket.) 

MIRANDA.  I  don't  know's  I  cal'lated  to  be  the 
makin'  of  any  child.  But  it's  just  like  Aurelia  to 
palm  off  that  wild  young  one  on  us. 

JANE.  (Gently,  goes  on  finishing  the  tomato  pin- 
cushion) Won't  it  be  kind  of  a  privilege  to  put  her 
on  the  right  track? 

MIRANDA.  I  don't  know  about  the  privilege  part. 
It'll  be  considerable  of  a  chore. 

JANE.  I  can't  see  why  you've  scrubbed  and  washed 
and  baked  as  you  have,  for  that  one  child,  nor  why 
you've  about  bought  out  Watson's  stock  of  dry 
goods. 

MIRANDA.  I've  seen  that  batch  of  children — wear- 
in'  one  another's  clothes  an'  never  carin'  whether 
they  had  'em  on  right  side  out  or  not.  I  suppose 
Rebecca's  never  had  a  thimble  on  her  finger  in  her 
life — but  she'll  know  the  feelin'  o'  one  before  she's 
been  here  many  days.  An'  you're  beginnin'  wrong 
with  her  the  first  thing — I  suppose  that  tomato  pin- 
cushion is  bein'  got  ready  for  her  bureau 

JANE.  She's  only  a  child,  Miranda — a  little  bright- 
ness in  her  room 

MIRANDA.  (Interrupting;  positively;  ominously) 
There's  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  she  takes  after  her 

father (Pause)  An'  the  less  we  encourage  her 

in  vain  show,  the  better.  I've  tacked  up  two  thick 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          13 

towels  back  of  her  washstand  an'  put  an  extry  mat 
under  her  slop-jar — but  I  expect  we  shan't  know  this 
house  a  year  from  now. 

JANE.  She  may  turn  out  more  biddable  than  we 
think. 

MIRANDA.  (Throwing  the  sewing  she  has  been 
whipping  back  into  JANE'S  basket)  You're  soft,  Jane. 
If  it  wan't  for  me  keepin'  you  stiffened  up,  I  believe 
you'd  leak  out  of  this  dooryard  into  the  road.  (Rises 
with  needless  energy;  picks  up  the  one  towel  she  left 
in  the  pan  and  goes  on  talking — while  MRS.  PERKINS 
comes  down  road  from  L.  to  R.,  enters,  unobserved, 
and  comes  down.)  She'll  mind  when  she's  spoken 
to,  biddable  or  not!  (Turns  from  table;  snaps  the 
wet  towel  into  MRS.  PERKINS'  face.  Picture.)  Good 
afternoon,  Mis'  Perkins!  (Spreads  towel  on  a  bush 
Rj 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Is  fifty,  cheerful,  plump,  gos- 
sipy, the  well-meaning  wife  of  the  village  blacksmith; 
wears  plain  cotton  dress  without  hat,  but  nothing 
fantastic  about  her.  She  has  a  gingham  dress  of 
EMMA  JANE'S  over  her  arm  and  a  pair  of  scissors  in 
her  apron  pocket.  Talks  very  rapidly)  Good  after- 
noon, Miranda !  (Crossing  down  in  following  MIR- 
ANDA) — and  Jane !  (JANE  smiles  welcome.)  Go 
right  on  with  vour  work — I  never  was  one  to  hinder 
folks,  an'  I  know  you're  hurryin'  to  git  off  to  the 
mission'ry  meetin' — (MIRANDA  crosses  to  pump; 
fills  dipper) — where  I  ought  to  be  goin'  myself,  but 
ain't.  Perkins'  sisters  comin'  down  from  Freedom 
an'  I  knew  I  couldn't  get  to  the  church  an'  cook  any 
kind  of  a  supper  for  her.  She's  dreadful  particular 
about  her  vittles.  You've  had  your  own  trials  with 
relations,  so  you  can  sympathize.  She  always  comes 
when  Emma  Jane  ain't  fit  to  be  seen.  (Apropos  of 
gingham  dress,  taking  scissors  from  her  apron  pocket ; 
ripping)  An'  I've  got  to  rip  these  bands  off  an'  let 
the  hem  down,  so's  she  can  wear  it  tonight.  Emma 


14       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

Jane's  named  for  her  an'  she's  a  woman  of  consid- 
erable property (Inferentially)  I  need  say  no 

more.  (Rips.  Sits  back  of  table.) 

MIRANDA.  (Comes  down  to  table.  Setting  dip- 
per of  water  on  table)  No — you  needn't.  (Crosses 
R.  on  porch,  fetches  basket  of  clothes  to  dampen  and 
sets  it  in  front  and  at  R.  end  of  table,  while  JANE 
rises,  sets  her  chair  aside  quietly,  picks  up  her  work- 
basket  so  as  to  yield  the  whole  table  to  MIRANDA — 
also  removes  empty  pan.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Laughs  at  MIRANDA'S  remark) 
But  speakin'  o'  property  an'  fortunes — I'm  just  full 
of  a  piece  o'  news  't  Perkins  brought  home  at  din- 
ner-time— though  like's  not  you've  heard  it. 

MIRANDA.  (Secretly  keen  but  affecting  indiffer- 
ence) We're  not  much  for  news — Jane  an'  me. 

JANE.  An'  we  haven't  been  further'n  the  school- 
house  for  a  week.  (MIRANDA  begins  to  dampen 
clothes,  standing  R.  of  table,  profile  to  audience,  giv- 
ing MRS.  PERKINS,  who  is  back  of  table,  the  advan- 
tage of  position.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (While  JANE  stands  L.  and  a  little 
back  of  her  to  listen.  Bustling  with  importance) 
It'll  raise  a  regular  commotion  when  it  gets  spread 
about.  Every  girl  from  here  to  Milltown  't's  reached 
a  marriageable  age — an'  some  't's  gone  a  good  way 
beyond  it — '11  be  gettin'  out  her  best  bib  and  tucker, 
an'  crimpin'  her  hair,  for  who  do  you  think's  come 
back  from  Boston?  (Pause.  MRS.  PERKINS  does 
not  mean  to  hurry  with  a  choice  bit  of  nezvs.) 

MIRANDA.  Well — who  has?  (Dampens  vigorous- 
ly— water  flies  on  MRS.  PERKINS.  MIRANDA  doesn't 
realize  it.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Moving  a  little  further  L.  to  avoid 
water)  With  no  more  frills  on  him  than  when  he 
used  to  come  down  here  barefoot  from  North  River- 
boro — sellin'  beries.  We  used  to  say  't  "Adam"  was 
a  good  name  for  him,  for  he  had  scarcely  any  more 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          15 

clothes  to  his  back  'n  his  forebear  in  the  Garden  of 
Eden.  (Hand  to  one  side  of  face,  laughingly.  MIR- 
ANDA sprinkles  more  water  on  MRS.  PERKINS,  who 
moves  further.  MIRANDA  oblivious.) 

MIRANDA.  Do  you  mean  little  Adam  Laddf 

MRS.  PERKINS.  He  ain't  little  Adam  any  longer. 
He  must  be  about  thirty,  tall  and  good  lookin'  an' 
rich  as  Crusoe! 

JANE.  You  don't  say!  (Goes  to  R.  Goes  to  porch; 
puts  pan  and  work-basket  on  porch.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  And  when  I  see  him  in  Watson's 
jest  now  buying  strawberries,  I  took  him  for  a  sum- 
ber  boarder — an'  when  he  lifted  his  hat  an'  said: 
"Well,  Mrs.  Perkins,  the  last  time  we  met  I  was 
sellin'  two  boxes  for  a  quarter,  an'  I  remember  well 
you  allers  said  I  was  a  clean  picker!"  I  thought  I 
would  sink  through  Watson's  floor  to  have  him  talk- 
in'  that  way  to  me — me,  and  my  front  hair  in  pins. 
(Turns  back.  JANE  is  listening,  quietly  and  surrep- 
titiously.) 

MIRANDA.  How'd  he  make  his  money — honest? 
(Gives  MRS.  PERKINS  another  vigorous  sprinkle,  still 
oblivious.  MRS.  PERKINS  moves  quite  to  end  of 
table.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Perkins  says  he's  made  it  in  rail- 
roads and  mines. 

MIRANDA.  Well,  they're  none  too  honest.  (Sprin- 
kles.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  He's  doin'  over  his  aunt's  house 
— bringin'  water  into  the  kitchen  for  one  thing — she's 
got  a  turrible  weak  back — an'  he's  lookin'  up  a  safe 
horse  so't  she  can  drive  around  a  little  mite.  "Let 
her  get  her  comfort  while  she  can,"  thinks  I,  "fer  it 
won't  be  long  afore  there'll  be  a  wife  there!  The 
wife'll  drive  round  in  the  buggy  an'  old  Mis'  Ladd'll 
get  her  comfort  out  o'  workin'  the  pump  in  the  old 
kitchen  sink!" 


16        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

JANE.  He  ain't  married,  then  ?  (Comes  down  steps 
to  c.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  No !  Though  they  do  say  he  could 
'a'  had  the  pick  o'  Boston  by  jest  crookin'  his  little 
finger.  (MRS.  PERKINS  moves — takes  scissors.) 

MIRANDA.  (Scornfully)  Boston — which  everybody 
knows  is  a  sink  of  iniquity!  But  that's  what  the 
men  folks  do.  They  never  think  o'  weedin'  a  woman 
out  o'  their  own  village,  where  they're  as  thick  as 
caterpillars.  (Gives  a  last  good  sprinkle  to  MRS. 
PERKINS,  who  now  turns  corner  of  the  table  at  L.  of 
it,  facing  MIRANDA;  wipes  off  her  scissors  care- 
fully.) 

JANE.  (Promptly,  with  spirit,  during  above  busi- 
ness) Speak  for  yourself,  Miranda.  I  don't  want  to 
be  "weeded  out,"  and  I  don't  intend  to  be  called  a 
caterpillar.  (Goes  back,  turning  towels,  upstage.) 

MIRANDA.  Has  Adam  come  back  to  stop? 

MRS.  PERKINS.  He'll  be  back'n  forth  all  the  while 
now — for  they're  talkin'  about  buildin'  a  railroad 
over  Temp'rance  way.  'Twon't  be  laid  for  a  good 
while  yet,  but  he  has  to  see  which  way's  best  for  't 
to  go  an'  buy  up  land  for  it.  (Inferentially)  Aure- 
lia's  farm's  over  that  way — ain't  it? 

MIRANDA.  (Pessimistically)  If  'twas,  they'd  jump 
over  it  or  go  round  it  jest  for  spite. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Aurelia  has  had  the  pizinest  luck 
— ain't  she  ?  But  now't  you've  taken  Rebecca  off  her 
hands,  things'll  be  some  easier  for  her.  It's  awful 
generous  of  you — especially  as  it  seems  if  you'd 
picked  out  the  worst  of  the  whole  lot!  (Frigid,  omi- 
nous pause.  MIRANDA  looks  daggers  at  MRS.  PERK- 
INS, who  is  serenely  oblivious  and  very  busy  with  a 
knotty  piece  of  ripping.  MIRANDA  turns  slowly  to 
fix  JANE  with  her  eye.) 

JANE.  (Breaking  the  silence,  stiffly)  I  didn't  know 
as  any  of  Aurelia's  children  were  bad!  (MRS.  PERK- 


ACT  i         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          17 
INS  looks  up  blankly — from  frigid  JANE  to  frigid 

MlRANDA.J 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Land  sakes,  now,  I  didn't  mean 
any  harm.  (Making  matters  worse)  I'm  only  re- 
peatin'  what  I've  heard.  (Very  brief  pause.) 

SIMPSON.  (Appearing  at  screen  door)  I've  fit- 
ted the  key  to  the  clock  door's  you  said.  Anything 
more?  (MRS.  PERKINS  looks  at  SIMPSON  with 
marked  disapproval;  continues  to  hold  an  attitude  of 
surprise  and  preparation  to  speak  her  mind — till  she 
speaks.) 

MIRANDA.  (With  new  nervousness,  born  of  MRS. 
PERKINS'  words)  See'f  you  can  fit  one  to  the  pre- 
serve pantry.  (Exit  SIMPSON.  MIRANDA  adds  quick- 
ly to  JANEJ  Did  you  count  the  tumblers  o'  jelly  this 
mornin'  ? 

JANE.  Yes. 

MIRANDA.  You'd  better  go  in  an'  look  after  him 
anyway.  (Exit  JANE,  close  after  SIMPSON,  into 
kitchen.  MIRANDA  has  reached  a  dark  calico  dress 
and  lace  curtain  in  her  basket.  They  must  be  damp- 
ened but  little,  and  very  carefully  folded  and  rolled 
up,  as  they  must  be  in  good  order  for  the  tableau  in 
this  Act.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  I  wouldn't  leave  that  man  alone  in 
my  house  for  a  second. 

MIRANDA.  (Really  worried,  but  preferring  to  be 
antagonistic)  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  when  men 
are's  scarce's  hens'  teeth — an'  nobody  seems  to  know 
anything  'bout  him — good  or  bad? 

MRS.  PERKINS.  They've  moved  so  often — their 
whole  charactered  have  to  be  collected,  like  the  calico 
pieces  for  a  quilt — but  this  much  they  do  say — he's 
been  twice  in  jail  for  thievin'.  (MRS.  SIMPSON  re- 
enters  from  kitchen,  quietly  and  timidly,  unobserved 
by  MIRANDA  or  MRS.  PERKINS;  hangs  the  braided 
mat  over  the  porch  rail  to  dry.  She  looks  up ;  listens 
as  she  hangs  mat.)  But  he's  that  queer  an'  contrary, 


i8        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

he  won't  never  steal  close  to  home,  always  off  some- 
where where  he  ain't  known. 

MIRANDA.  An'  if  his  wife's  honest — no  wonder 
she  looks's  if  he  stepped  on  her  every  mornin'  before 
breakfast. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (With  much  important  stress) 
Which  ain't  natural  in  any  wife 

MIRANDA.   Eh ! 

MRS.  PERKINS.  There's  somethin'  queer  back  o' 
her  cringin'  ways  that  we  ain't  been  able  to  discover 
— yet.  (Pause.  MIRANDA  looks  hard  at  MRS.  PERK- 
INS, who  continues  to  look  important — while  MRS. 
SIMPSON,  on  porch,  hangs  like  a  timid,  hunted  thing 
on  the  next  words  to  be  spoken.)  There's  a  good  deal 
more  queer  'bout  'em  both  than  jest  thievin'.  (Pause. 
MRS.  SIMPSON  shrinks  back  gradually,  reaching 
blindly  for  the  spring  door  and  showing  plainly  by 
expression  and  business  that  there  is  something 
wrong.  Ominously)  An'  whichever  goes  to  Temp'- 
rance  first,  me  or  Perkins,  is  goin'  to  make  a  busi- 
ness of  findin'  out  all  there  is  to  know!  (A  brief 
pause.  Picture  during  which  MRS.  SIMPSON  slips 
into  the  kitchen.) 

MIRANDA.  (Breaking  the  scene  and  the  picture, 
picking  up  the  finished  basket  of  clothes  and  setting 
it  aside  R.,  near  house)  Well,  he's  only  got  one  job 
left — the  polin'  of  the  string  beans.  (Takes  dipper 
up  to  pump)  That's  outside  the  house,  thank  good- 
ness, or  I'd  never  go  away  and  leave  him 

(Crosses  back  c.  to  basket;  replaces  it  on  pump 
ledge)  I  s'pose  you'll  be  goin'  now,  as  me  an'  Jane 

must  git  dressed ,  (Going  to  house.  Enter 

SIMPSON  from  house;  goes  to  pump,  gets  dipper  of 
water  and  drinks.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Rising  quickly)  I'd  ought  to  be 
goin' — but  I  would  like  to  see  how  you've  fixed  up 

the  little  ell  chamber  for  Rebecca (MIRANDA 

is  on  porch  now.  MRS.  PERKINS  follows  MIRANDA, 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          19 

punctuating  MRS.  PERKINS"  remarks  in  chosen 
places.)  I  remember  I  slep'  in  it  myself  once.  There, 
I  won't  say  slep'  in  it,  for  when  it  rains  it's  like 
artillery  on  the  porch  roof,  an'  I  never  closed  my 

eyes  a  wink (MIRANDA  exits  through  spring 

door.  MRS.  PERKINS  follows  MIRANDA  up  steps  and 
into  house,  her  voice  trailing  on  even  after  the  spring 
door  has  closed  behind  them.)  But  a  child  is  differ- 
ent, an'  anybody  that's  got  their  comf 'table  chambers 
all  red  up 

(As  MIRANDA  and  MRS.  PERKINS  exeunt,  while 
MRS.  PERKINS'  voice  still  trails,  ADAM  LADD 
comes  down  the  road  from  R.  to  L.,  halts  near 
gate,  looks  up  and  down  road,  then  into  door- 
yard — as  one  renewing  acquaintance  with  re- 
membered scenes.  LADD  stands  looking  into 
door  yard.  SIMPSON  at  pump;  sees  LADD.) 

LADD.  (Is  about  thirty.  Though  cosmopolitan, 
there  is  no  lack  of  identity  between  him  and  his  pres- 
ent surroundings.  He  is  never  the  "city  swell"  and 
never  quite  alien  to  his  past — his  country  boyhood. 
He  has  the  simple  earnestness  and  directness  of  a  big, 
generous  nature  and  later  on  reveals  the  touch  of 
poetry  and  romance  that  wins  REBECCA'S  sympathy 
and  affection.  He  is  well  but  simply  dressed — every 
inch  a  man.  To  SIMPSONJ  Good  afternoon!  Can 
you  tell  me  if  the  old  path  across  the  woods  to  North 
Riverboro  is  still  open?  The  trees  have  grown  so  I 
can't  find  a  trace  of  it. 

SIMPSON.  (Looking  LADD  over  with  interest)  I 
ain't  one  to  use  my  legs  's  long's  I  can  get  a  horse  to 
carry  me.  So  I  ain't  much  on  "paths." 

LADD.  (Smiling,  coming  down  c.)  Do  you  know 
anybody  with  a  horse  who  could  give  me  a  lift?  It 
looks  like  rain. 

SIMPSON.   (Reflecting)   Lessee— Perkins'  horse  is 


2O        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

takin'  the  Sawyer  girls  to  the  Missionary  Meetin' — 
the  Stage  Driver's  got  an  extry  horse,  but  he  won't 
come  along  for  some  time  yet. 

LADD.  Is  it  for  sale?  I'd  like  to  buy  one. 

SIMPSON.  Robinson,  up  the  hill  there's — (Point- 
ing to  L.)  — got  a  horse  to  sell — or  what  he  calls  a 

horse (Humorously — inferentially)  Mebbe  he'd 

carry  you  over  and  show  the  animile  off. 

LADD.  (With  an  understanding  smile)  I  want  a 
quiet  horse — for  my  aunt — she's  rather  an  invalid — 
and  very  timid.  Is  this  Robinson  horse  afraid  of 
anything  ? 

SIMPSON.  I  never  drove  him  but  once — an'  the 
only  fear  't  he  seemed  to  experience  was  that  he'd 
git  too  far  in  the  mornin'  to  git  back  in  the  after- 
noon. 

LADD.  (Heartily  amused)  I  think  he's  just  the 
horse  I'm  looking  for. 

SIMPSON.  (Warming  up  to  a  job)  An'  if  you 
liked  his  looks — then  I  could  see  Robinson  an'  mebbe 
save  you  somethin'  on  the  deal.  Horses  is  my  spe- 
cialty. 

LADD.   Thank  you 

SIMPSON.  (Breaking  in)  An'  if  you  should  need 
a  hay  press  or  a  mowin'  machine,  I  can  git  you  one 
most  any  time.  (Pauses  to  let  audience  realize  how.) 

LADD.  Come  over  and  see  me. 

SIMPSON.   (Eagerly)  Where  do  you  live? 

LADD.   Ladd's  my  name. 

SIMPSON.    (Quickly)   Adam  Ladd,  from  Boston? 

LADD.    (Smiling)    Yes 

SIMPSON.  All  right — I  know  your  house.  An'  if 
you  want  any  odd  jobs  done,  I'd  like  to  do  something 
where  there's  a  man  round.  I'm  'bout  sick  o'  workin' 
for  a  passel  o'  widders  an'  old  maids. 

LADD.  (Laughing)  Come  out  tomorrow.  I'll 
climb  the  Robinson  Hill  on  my  way  back 

SIMPSON.    (Interrupting)    Of  course  you  know 


ACT  I          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          21 

they  don't  part  with  a  horse  round  here  till  he's  'bout 

ready  for  burial 

LADD.  I'll  look  at  him — and  let  you  know — but  we 
should  want  him  to  live  through  the  summer  anyway. 
Goodbye.  (Exit  LADD  up  road  LV  looking  at  the  sky 
as  he  moves  on,  to  plant  the  idea  of  threatened 
shower.) 

(MRS.  SIMPSON  re-enters  from  house,  carrying  a  pail 
zvith  cloth  in  it.  She  puts  down  the  pail,  takes 
off  apron,  rolls  it  up — her  attitude  must  be  very 
much  colored  by  her  earlier  apprehension.) 

SIMPSON.  (During  MRS.  SIMPSON'S  re-entrance 
and  business,  apropos  of  LADD,  talking  to  himself, 
though  MRS.  SIMPSON  is  well  in  the  picture  and  gives 
evidence  of  hearing)  I'll  bet  he'd  give  fifty  dollars 
for  that  horse — an'  he  ain't  worth  two  an'  a  half. 
(Turns;  sees  MRS.  SIMPSON  ;  speaks  to  her,  not  bru- 
tally but  in  a  tone  of  secondary  consideration — more 
important  things  on  his  mind)  Well,  are  you 
through  ? 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (Rotting  up  her  apron)  Yes ;  an* 
I  hope  it  ain't  for  the  last  time,  that's  all. 

SIMPSON.  (Looks  at  MRS.  SIMPSON  questioningly. 
MRS.  SIMPSON  must  be  sympathetic  and  never  a 
whining  character)  Why  should  it  be  for  the  last 
time? 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  We've  just  come  here  an'  got 
settled — Clara  Belle  at  school  an'  baby  big  enough  to 
creep  around (Keeps  on  rolling  her  apron  ner- 
vously, though  it  is  already  well  rolled.) 

SIMPSON.   Well? 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (A  catch  in  her  tired  voice)  An' 
now  we'll  have  to  keep  movin'  on — movin'  on — that's 
what  it'll  be. 

SIMPSON.  I  don't  mean  to  move  on  till  I'm  good'n 


22        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

ready (Goes  to  L.j  The  world  owes  us  a  livin' 

an'  we're  goin'  to  git  it. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  We  ain't  goin'  to  git  it  if  folks 
make  up  their  minds  the  other  way.  We've  got  to 
live  to  suit  'em's  well's  work  to  suit  'em. 

SIMPSON.  I  ain't  so  much's  took  a  curry-comb 
sence — sence  I  don't  know  when. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (Interrupting,  still  fingering  the 
apron  nervously)  I  know — if  I  know  the  worst  of 
ye,  don't  I  know  the  best  too?  'Tain't  so  much  that, 
Abner.  It's  the  same  old  thing,  only  in  a  new  place. 
I've  had  two  or  three  months'  comfort  an'  now 
they're  beginnin'  to  surmise.  I  just  heard  'em.  The 
blacksmith's  goin'  up  Temp'rance  way  askin'  ques- 
tions— Mis'  Perkins's  on  the  track,  an'  she's  worse'n 
a  hound  any  day. 

SIMPSON.   Well — let — 'em  ask 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (Timidly)  It's  easy  to  talk — but 
they're  lookin'  for  neighbors  in  this  little  place.  You 
know  well  'nough  why  they  won't  never  make  neigh- 
bors of  IAS.  (Pause.) 

SIMPSON.  Neighbors? — of  the  slab-sided,  knuckle- 
jointed,  tight-fisted  tribe't  lives  in  this  village ! — Who 
wants  to  be  their  neighbors  ? 

(MRS.  SIMPSON  drops  apron  into  bucket  and  exits 
through  gate  c.  to  L.  Exit  SIMPSON  front  of  shed 
down  L.  While  MIRANDA,  JANE  and  MRS.  PER- 
KINS are  heard  coming  toward  door  R.,  talking, 
MRS.  PERKINS'  voice  heard  above  others.  JANE 
and  MIRANDA  are  dressed  for  the  Missionary 
Meeting  in  plain  alpaca,  delaine  or  challie 
dresses  and  simple,  elderly  hats.  JANE  wears  a 
cape  to  match  her  dress  and  MIRANDA  a  plain 
black  mantle.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Finishing  her  remarks  as  she 
comes  out,  while  MIRANDA  comes  down  the  steps  to 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          23 

MRS.  PERKINS  and  JANE  lacks  the  kitchen  door) 
Good-bye,  Miranda.  Good-bye,  Jane.  I  think  I  have 
said  about  all  I  have  to  say.  Let  me  see.  Oh,  yes. 
(To  JANE,)  Tell  Mis'  Robinson  the  reason  I  couldn't 
go  to  the  meetin'  or  it'll  be  all  over  town  that  I  don't 

take  no  interest  in  the  heathen (To  MIRANDA,) 

— spite  of  my  makin'  four  flannel  petticoats  for  'em 

last  year — though  I  don't  believe (To  JANEJ 

— you  could  ever  convert  a  heathen  enough  to  make 
him  wear  a  flannel  petticoat — goodbye!  (Crosses  to 

table.  Rolls  up  EMMA  JANE'S  dress)  An' (To 

JANE)  — speakin'  o'  heathen  reminds  me  Aurelia 
never  was  much  of  a  churchgoer  an' (To  MIR- 
ANDA )  — I  hope  she's  brought  up  Rebecca  different. 
Is  she  comin'  mornin'  or  afternoon?  Goodbye. 

MIRANDA.  (Crossing  to  L.  of  woodshed,  moving 
constantly,  MRS.  PERKINS  dodging  out  of  MIRAN- 
DA'S way)  Tomorrow  afternoon.  Goodbye !  (Bangs 
woodshed  door.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Trying  to  make  amends  for  her 
former  remarks)  Goodbye !  (To  JANE,)  An'  if  I  was 
you  I  wouldn't  set  any  store  by  what  folks  said  about 

her  till  she  comes QANE  hides  key  under  a 

stone  by  the  porch  step  R.  and  sets  clothes-basket  up 
on  porch;  feels  the  towels  and  turns  some  of  them) 
For  they  do  say  she's  smarter'n  a  steel — trap — an' — 
(To  MIRANDA,)  — if  you're  able  to  cope  with  'er  she's 
liable  to  grow  up  into  almost  anything. 

MIRANDA.  (Turning  suddenly,  a  final  chip  on  her 
shoulder  that  she  darts  anybody  to  knock  off)  I'm 
fitted  to  cope  with  any  child's  ever  born  into  the 
world.  Goodbye!  (They  meet  at  c.,  MRS.  PERKINS 
taking  their  arms.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Goodbye!  I've  got  to  go  as  far 
as  the  Post  Office  myself.  I'll  go  along  a  piece  with 
you.  I'll  leave  this  here,  if  you  don't  mind,  till  I  come 
along  back.  I  don't  want  to  lug  it  through  the  vil- 
lage. (JANE  and  MIRANDA  exit  out  of  gate  c.  to  R. 


24        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

MRS.  PERKINS  after  them.  As  JANE,  MIRANDA  and 
MRS.  PERKINS  move  off  up  road,  MRS.  PERKINS 
continues  talking)  Perkins'll  be  at  the  bridge  with 
the  wagon  to  meet  you,  an'  if  he  ain't  there  right  on 

time (They  are  out  of  sight.  SIMPSON  re-enters 

L.  above  shed,  carrying  a  bundle  of  bean  poles.)  — he 
thought  mebbe  you  wouldn't  mind  settin'  on  the  bench 

for  a  spell (VOICE  dies  away.) 

SIMPSON.  Cacklin' old  hens !  (At  gate,  chuckling) 
Women  folks  are  all  so  hen-minded — I  shouldn't 
hardly  think  the  Lord'd  bother  to  make  'em — handy 
with  young  ones — I  guess  that's  jest  all  he  was  think- 
in'  of  when  he  yanked  the  first  one  out  o'  Adam's 
rib  an'  set  her  a  goin'.  Gosh,  the  piece  o'  rib  that 
Mirandy  Sawyer  was  made  of  was  all  cast  iron. 
(Gives  his  hat  a  jaunty  tilt  to  one  side  and  exits  up- 
stage back  of  barn.) 

(The  distant  RUMBLE  of  stage  has  been  heard  dur- 
ing this  soliloquy,  and  as  SIMPSON  moves  off  it 
rattles  over  the  distant  wooden  bridge — crack  of 
whip  in  the  urging  of  horses  up  the  hill — a  gen- 
eral good  workup  for  the  entrance  of  the  stage, 
and  it  comes  on  up  the  road  from  L.  and  putts 
up  at  the  gate,  JEREMIAH  COBB  on  the  box,  driv- 
ing, REBECCA  inside.  The  stage  is  the  old  Con- 
cord pattern  and  covered  with  dust ;  drawn  by 
two  very  ordinary  horses.  A  small  hair  trunk  is 
strapped  to  the  back,  old-fashioned  in  model, 
covered  zvith  horsehide  and  bound  with  faded 
and  worn  leather  straps.) 

COBB.  (A  man  of  sixty,  with  kind,  cheery,  benevo- 
lent, rosy,  tanned  face.  He  shifts  a  quid  of  tobacco 
now  and  then  from  one  cheek  to  the  other.  He  wears 
a  weather-beaten,  broad-brimmed  straw  hat  and  a 
linen  duster — or  a  sliort  seersucker  coat  preferred. 
He  is  powdered  with  dust.  As  stage  drives  up) 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUN NYBROOK  FARM          25 

Whoa,  there!  Whoa,  Billie!  Chub!  (Etc.  and 
ad  lib.  The  horses  stop.  COBB  looks  at  the 
deserted  house  porch,  then  at  the  upper  win- 
dow, then  turns  a  little — looks  down  at  REBECCA, 
who  has  already  opened  the  door  and  is  ready  to  step 
out.  Hold  picture  briefly.)  Mebbe  your  aunts  air 
out  in  the  garden  an'  forgot  the  time.  (REBECCA 
hesitates  on  the  stage  step,  also  looking  into  door- 
yard  and  up  at  the  windows  expectantly.  COBB  calls) 
Mirandy !  Jane !  Here's  Rebecca !  (Silence.)  They'll 
be  here  in  a  minute.  Mirandy!  Where  on  earth  be 
they?  (To  REBECCA  again)  Can  you  git  out  alone? 
(REBECCA  gathers  up  her  bundles — steps  out.)  Mind 
your  bundles.  There  you  be !  (REBECCA  pushes  open 
gate — stands  in  the  gateway.)  There  don't  seem  to 
be  nobody  but  me  to  say  so,  but  walk  right  in  and 
make  yourself  to  home. 

(REBECCA  enters  with  as  much  bravery  as  she  can 
summon,  comes  down  to  a  little  above  c.,  and 
stands  looking  about  the  deserted  dooryard.  She 
is  an  emotional,  high-strung,  dark  little  creature, 
"going  on"  thirteen.  She  wears  a  starched, 
glossy,  buff  calico  dress,  somewhat  faded,  the 
waist  buttoned  in  front  and  finished  at  the  neck 
with  a  little  standing  white  ruche.  Her  dark 
hair  hangs  in  one  thick  braid  (or  two)  to  her 
waist.  She  has  a  funny  little  flat  leghorn  hat, 
trimmed  with  a  twist  of  buff  ribbon  and  a  clus- 
ter of  black  and  orange  porcupine  quills  bristling 
over  one  ear.  She  wears  white  cotton  gloves. 
She  carries  a  bunch  of  faded  pink  flowers  and  a 
little  pink  parasol  with  ivory  handle,  and  a  long 
brozvn  cape  over  her  arm.  The  costume,  while 
following  the  description  in  the  book,  should  be 
made  as  quaintly  pretty  as  possible.  She  stands 
decorously,  very  still,  but  looks  everywhere, 
making  acquaintance  with  new  premises — pulls 


26        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

up  her  gloves,  pushes  her  hat  back  on  the  quill 
side,  holds  the  bouquet  ready — all  this  expectant 
of  being  welcomed  at  any  moment.  Any  pre- 
vious preparatory  business  suggested  by  the 
situation.) 

COBB.  (During  above  business)  Jane !  Mirandy ! 
Well,  this  beats  me!  (Climbs  down  from  box,  and 
as  he  does  so,  calls  down  to  REBECCA,)  Try  the  door 
and  see  if  it's  locked.  (REBECCA  crosses  R.,  goes  up 
the  steps  and  tries  the  door.  As  she  turns  to  came 
down  again)  Air  you  sure  they  was  lookin'  for  you 
today  ? 

REBECCA.  (Coming  down  the  porch  steps)  You 
heard  yourself  what  Mother  said  when  she  put  me 
in  the  stage !  "Take  her  to  the  brick  house  in  River- 
boro,  where  they  are  expecting  her." 

COBB.     That's    so — well,    somethin'    gone   wrong 

somehow 

REBECCA.  (With  sudden  inspiration)  I  know — 
Mother  got  me  ready  a  day  sooner  than  she  thought 
she  could! 

COBB.  Then  you  ain't  expected  till  tomorrow? 
That's  bad ! 

REBECCA.  Oh,  dear !  And  I  suppose  you'll  have  to 
drive  right  on  with  the  newspapers  and  leave  me 
alone? 

COBB.  (Reassuringly)  Not  this  minute,  by  a  long 
shot!  I'm  ahead  o'  time  anyway,  goin'  so  fast  with 
them  gay  horses  o'  mine.  Set  your  bundles  down  and 
we'll  have  a  drink  o'  State  o'  Maine  sperits.  (Goes 
to  pnmp,  while  REBECCA  lays  her  flowers  on  the 
table,  and  her  pink  parasol  very  carefully  on  a  chair.) 
An'  we'll  talk  it  over.  We'll  git  you  under  cover 
somehow  an'  find  out  where  your  aunts  be.  (Conies 
down  with  dipper  of  water  to  REBECCA  and  talks 
cheerfully  while  she  drinks)  'Tain't  just  the  trium- 
phal entry — we  planned — me  with  the  horses  snort- 


ACT  I          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          27 

in'  an'  gallopin' — you  with  your  pink  sunshine 
spread 

REBECCA.  (Giving  back  the  dipper)  And  every- 
body wondering  whose  beautiful  trunk  was  on  the 
back  !  (While  COBB  replaces  the  dipper  at  the  pump.) 
Things  do  turn  out  so  different  from  what  you  ex- 
pect in  this  world!  (As  COBB  comes  back — earnest- 
ly) I've  been  trained  for  weeks  and  weeks  to  arrive 
just  like  a  grown-up  visitor — make  no  trouble  and 
say  no  wrong  things — and  be  Aunt  Miranda's  pride 
and  joy. 

COBB.  'Tain't  no  easy  job  to  be  Mirandy's  pride 
an'  joy  all  to  once,  so  you'd  better  mind  your  prunes 
and  prisms. 

REBECCA.  (Fussing  nervously  with  her  gloved 
fingers — pulling  them  down  by  the  tips  and  pushing 
them  back)  Well,  I  did  mean  to — but  my  beautiful 
behavior  will  be  slipping  away  from  me  if  they  dont 
hurry !  (CoBB  motions  with  both  hands  for  her  to  be 
ready.  REBECCA  hurriedly  snatches  up  her  flowers, 
smoothes  her  dress,  settles  her  hat  and  gets  all  ready 
to  be  "received")  Don't  you  leave  me  till  I'm  all 
introduced  and  taken  in. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Comes  on  road  from  R.,  hurrying 
breathlessly.  Entering  c.,  out  of  breath,  picks  up 
bundle  from  under  table)  Land  sakes,  Jeremiah! 

COBB.    (Jovially)    I've  fetched  Rebeccy! 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Entering,  halting — taking  a  good 
look  at  REBECCA,  looking  her  over)  Well,  of  all 
things !  We  wa'n't  expectin'  you  till  tomorrow. 

REBECCA.  (Who  has  arranged  herself  in  her  most 
ladylike  position)  I'm  sorry  if  Mother  sent  me  a  day 
too  soon,  Aunt — Aunt  Jane,  and  she  hopes  you'll 
like  these  flowers  from  Sunnybrook  Farm.  (Offers 
the  faded  bouquet.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Laughing)  Goodness  gracious, 
child,  I  ain't  your  aunt.  They've  gone  to  the  Mis- 
sionary Meetin*. 


28        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

COBB.  Well,  I  s'pose  the  key's  under  the  stone  's 

usual — yes,  here  she  be (Takes  key  from  under 

stone.  To  MRS.  PERKINS,  giving  her  the  key)  I  ain't 
no  housebreaker.  An'  if  you'll  take  it  on  yourself 
to  unlock  the  door,  I'll  fetch  her  trunk  in  an'  carry 
it  right  upstairs.  (MRS.  PERKINS  goes  to  door  on 
porch.)  Git  up,  Billie — ha-ha!  (COBB  crosses  out  of 
gate;  takes  trunk  from  stage,  while  MRS.  PERKINS 
unlocks  and  opens  door.  REBECCA  stands  nervously, 
looking  first  in  MRS.  PERKINS'  direction,  then  in 
COBB'S.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Coming  down  steps.  To  RE- 
BECCA,) An'  you  might's  well  go  right  in  an'  lay  off 
your  things. 

REBECCA.  No,  thank  you — Mother  says  Aunt  Mir- 
anda is  dreadfully  particular,  and  I  was  to  be  most 
careful  and  genteel.  She  might  not  like  me  to  go 
inside  till  I  was  invited.  (Turning  quickly  to  COBB, 
who  is  in  the  dooryard  with  the  trunk)  You'll  be 
careful,  won't  you,  dear  Mr.  Cobb  ?  It's  my  mother's 
trunk  and  she's  very  choice  of  it. 

COBB.  (Passing  on  toward  steps)  Don't  you  worry 
a  mite. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (To  COBB,)  Right  up  in  the  ell 
chamber  over  the  porch.  (COBB  exits  through  kitchen 
door  with  trunk.  Keen  for  information)  You've 
brought  a  lot  of  new  things,  I  s'pose? 

REBECCA.  (For  the  first  time  she  laughs,  and  mer- 
rily) We  never  have  new  things.  We  couldn't.  Han- 
nah has  Mother's.  I  have  Hannah's,  Jenny  has  mine, 
and  Mira  has  what's  left — and  Mother's  still  cutting 
over  Father's  for  the  boys.  This  is  my  best  one,  and 
I've  had  an  awful  time  keeping  it  smooth  to  arrive 
in. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Ain't  you  got  it  on  hindside  fore- 
most? 

REBECCA.  Hindside  foremost  ?  No,  that's  all  right. 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          29 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Points  to  buttons)  Why,  it's  but- 
toned up  the  front. 

REBECCA.  (Looking  down  at  the  little  row  of  pearl 
buttons  under  her  chin)  Oh!  If  you  have  seven  chil- 
dren you  can't  keep  buttoning,  and  wwbuttoning  'em 
all  the  time.  No,  they  have  to  do  themselves.  Mira's 
only  three,  but  she's  buttoned  up  in  front  too. 

MRS.  PERKINS.   My  goodness,  five  girls ! 

REBECCA.  And  two  boys — Marquis  de  Lafayette, 
named  after  Uncle  Mark,  that  was  father's  twin — 
and  John  Halifax,  from  a  gentleman  in  a  book.  Han- 
nah is  Hannah  at  the  Window  Binding  Shoes,  and 
I'm  taken  out  of  Ivanhoe.  Mira  is  for  Aunt  Mir- 
anda. Mother  hoped  it  might  do  some  good — but 
she  said  it  didn't,  so  we  just  call  her  Mira. 

MRS.  PERKINS.   My,  it  is  a  big  family,  ain't  it  ? 

REBECCA.  Far  too  big;  everybody  says  that.  It 
costs  so  much  to  feed — and  I  haven't  done  anything 
but  put  babies  to  bed  at  night  and  take  them  up  in 
the  morning  for  years  and  years.  But  it's  all  finished, 
that's  one  comfort. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  All  finished? — Oh,  you  mean 
you've  come  away? 

REBECCA.  No — I  mean  our  family's  finished — all 
over  and  done  with.  Mother  says  so  and  she  always 
keeps  her  promises.  Mira  was  the  last.  There  hasn't 
been  any  babies  since — Father  died!  (Sighs)  I  do 
hope  there  won't  be  any  babies  born  in  the  Brick 
House  while  I'm  here. 

MRS.  PERKINS.   (Feelingly)   I  hope  not ! 

REBECCA.  I  want  to  go  to  school — get  earning — 
and  pay  off  the  mortgage. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Her  mouth  watering)  Oh,  there's 
a  mortgage,  is  there?  (Goes  to  L.cJ 

REBECCA.  I  should  say  there  was!  Mother  keeps 
it  in  the  bureau  drawer  and  cries  over  it  nights. 
That's  why  I've  got  to  pay  it  back  quick,  or  Mother 
says  it  will  eat  us  out  of  house  and  home — *-  (MRS. 


30        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

PERKINS  is  about  to  sit  down  on  the  chair  where  RE- 
BECCA has  placed  her  parasol,  not  noticing  it.  Apro- 
pos of  impending  catastrophe)  Oh,  don't,  if  you 

please!  It  was (Gives  shriek  of  anguish.  MRS. 

PERKINS  doesn't  sit  and  jumps  up — crosses  to  R.C. 
REBECQA  snatches  up  her  beloved  parasol)  — brought 
to  me  from  Paris — just  look  at  the  ruffle  and  the  real 
ivory  handle — ivory  is  awfully  precious. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  An'  I  guess  you  made  good  use 
of  it  this  hot  day. 

REBECCA.  Oh,  I  never  put  it  up  when  the  sun 
shines — pink  fades  dreadfully,  and  I  only  carry  it  to 
meeting  on  cloudy  Sundays.  It's  the  dearest  thing  in 
life  to  me,  but  it's  an  awful  care.  (Lays  parasol  again 
on  table.) 

COBB.  (Entering  from  kitchen)  Well,  I  guess  I'll 
have  to  leave  my  little  passenger  to  you,  Mis'  Per- 
kins. (REBECCA  pulls  at  her  glove  fingers  nervously.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Breaking  in)  An'  on  your  way 
home  drive  by  the  meetin'  house  and  tell  Mirandy 
*n'  Jane  that  Rebecca's  here. 

COBB.  Trust  Uncle  Jerry  for  that !  (Pats  REBEC- 
CA on  shoulder.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Land's  sake,  I  left  my  scissors  in 
the  house.  (Exits  into  house.) 

COBB.  (Coming  to  REBECCA,)  I  swan  I  don't  like 
to  leave  you  here  all  alone,  but  there !  They'll  be 
back  before  ye  know  it.  Ain't  sheered,  be  ye  ? 

REBECCA.  N-no!  Only  disappointed!  Mother 
said  my  coming  to  the  Brick  House  was  just  like  a 
fairy  story.  "Don't  cry,  Rebecca,"  she  said.  "In  a 
few  hours  you  will  be  folded  in  your  Aunt  Mirandy's 
arms " 

COBB.  (Shows  some  despair  at  the  discrepancy  of 
fancy  and  fact)  Now  don't  git  disappointed  too 
soon.  There  ain't  never  been  no  young  ones  in  the 
Brick  House,  an',  well — Mirandy  ain't  trained  in  on 
foldin'  yet  1 — but  it'll  come  out  all  right !  (Puts  hand 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          31 

under  REBECCA'S  chin)  Land,  that  little  tongue  o' 
yourn'd  find  honey  most  anywhere.  You  ain't  goin' 
to  forget  to  come  an'  see  me  ? 

REBECCA.   (A  little  fearful)  Indeed  I'm  not ! 

COBB.   Sure  you  remember  the  house? 

REBECCA.  (Smiling  now)  The  one  with  the  big 
apple  tree,  on  the  hill  just  over  the  bridge. 

COBB.  You've  got  a  pow'ful  good  mem'ry.  An' 
Mother — that's  Sarah  Ellen — she'll  be  just  as  glad 
to  see  ye  as  I  will.  She's  a  folder,  I  tell  ye,  Mother 
is !  Goodbye ! 

REBECCA.  (Her  eyes  filling)  Goodbye!  (COBB 
goes  upstage — gets  on  coach.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Enters  from  house)  If  you  see 
Emma  Jane  or 'any  of  the  other  young  ones,  send 
?em  over. 

COBB.  I  will.  (On  top  of  coach,  to  REBECCA,) 
Goodbye,  Rebecca! 

REBECCA.  Goodbye! 

COBB.  (Takes  reins,  clucks  to  the  horses  and  says 
in  same  voice  as  his  goodbyes)  Git  up,  Billy!  Git 
up,  Chub !  (Drives  off.) 

(EMMA  JANE  PERKINS,  ALICE  ROBINSON,  MINNIE 
SMELLIE  and  CLARA  BELLE  SIMPSON  have  edged 
down  the  road  from  L.  and  enter,  pushing  each 
other  on  and  pulling  back,  in  child  fashion,  and 
are  at  the  gate,  looking  over  at  REBECCA.) 

ALL.  (As  they  enter)  There  goes  the  stage — there 
goes  the  stage ! 

EMMA  JANE.  (A  pretty,  plump  girl  with  short 
brown  curly  hair — unintelligent  but  amiable)  Can  we 
come  in,  Ma?  (REBECCA  and  MRS.  PERKINS  turn.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Opening  gate  promptly.  EMMA 
JANE  conies  in  shyly,  turning  her  left  foot  in  a  bit) 

Come  right  in.  There's  nobody  to  home (ALICE 

and  MINNIE  come  in,  MINNIE  rubbing  her  nose  with 


32        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

her  fingers.  ALICE  snaps  her  curls.  All  are  simple, 
shy  country  children.) 

MINNIE.  (First  looking  at  REBECCA,  rubbing  nose. 
ALICE  second,  looking  at  REBECCA,  snapping  curls. 
EMMA  JANE  third,  looking  at  REBECCA,  left  toe 
turned  in.  CLARA  BELLE  fourth,  looking  at  RE- 
BECCA; Hello! 

REBECCA.   How  do  you  do? 

ALICE.  Hello! 

REBECCA.   How  do  you  do? 

EMMA  JANE.   Hello! 

REBECCA.  (Looking  quickly  from  one  to  another, 
joyfully  recognising  CLARA  BELLED  Clara  Belle 
Simpson !  (They  suddenly  embrace  and  kiss  each 
other.)  She  went  to  my  Sunday  School.  (CLARA 
BELLE  is  now  on  R.  of  REBECCA.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  And  this  is  Alice  Robinson 

(ALICE  and  REBECCA  bow.) 

ALICE.  Hello ! 

REBECCA.   How  do  you  do? 

MRS.  PERKINS.  And  this  is  my  Emma  Jane 

'(EMMA  JANE  and  REBECCA  stand  and  look  at  each 
other  briefly.) 

REBECCA.  How  do  you  do? 

EMMA  JANE.  Oh,  I  like  you!  (Goes  to  her  and 
kisses  her  and  goes  to  c.) 

MINNIE.  (Very  blonde,  must  be  made  up  to  look 
colorless,  selfish  and  meddlesome)  An'  I'm  Minnie 
Smellie. 

REBECCA.   (Politely)   Minnie  what? 

MINNIE.  (Very  plainly)  Smellie!  (Spelling) 
S-m-e-1-l-i-e — Smellie 

REBECCA.  (Encouragingly)  Oh,  Smellie !  How 
do  you  do,  Minnie  ? 

MINNIE.    Hello! 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Now  all  you  children  stop  right 
here  an'  keep  Rebecca  comp'ny  till  her  aunts  come — 
(To  EMMA  JANEJ  and  when  I  ring  the  supper  bell, 


ACT  i         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          33 

real  loud,  Emma  Jane  Perkins,  you  make  for  home. 
(Exits  up  road  L.  ;  as  she  moves)  Goodbye,  all. 
Amuse  yourselves  some  nice  quiet  way! 

(CHILDREN  stand  about  with  painful  propriety, 
MINNIE  SMELLIE  has  a  nervous  habit  of  rub- 
bing her  nose  with  her  forefinger  and  then  her 
chin  in  the  same  way.  EMMA  JANE  stands  first 
on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other.  ALICE  ROB- 
INSON, a  pretty  child  with  golden  curls,  pulls  a 
curl  out  straight  and  lets  it  jump  back  into  curl, 
repeatedly.  CLARA  BELLE  tries  to  hide  holes  in 
her  shoes.  A  profound  silence.  REBECCA  takes 
off  her  gloves.) 

REBECCA.  (Breaking  the  silence  politely,  like  a  hos- 
tess) It  looks  like  a  shower!  (Pause.  Shakes  back 
the  irritating  quills  in  her  hat.) 

EMMA  JANE.  Father  thinks  it's  goin'  to  blow  over. 
(Pauses.  MINNIE  rubs  her  nose.  ALICE  snaps  her 
curl,  business  with  hat  again.  Very  profound  silence. 
REBECCA  whips  off  her  hat.) 

MINNIE.   Is  that  your  best  hat? 

REBECCA.  (Holding  it  off  scornfully,  regarding  it 
sternly)  That!  It's  my  best,  and  it's  my  worst! 

EMMA  JANE.   Is  it  this  year's  style? 

REBECCA.  (Laughing  gaily)  I  don't  know.  My 
mother  was  married  in  it,  so  it  must  be.  (Comes 
down)  Hannah's  had  'em  on  three  hats,  and  I've 
had  'em  on  four.  This  is  the  fourth. 

ALL.   Oh! 

EMMA  JANE.  Don't  you  like  it? 

REBECCA.  I  hate  it !  I  hate  it  as  if  'twas  a  snail 
or  a  bug !  (Moves  back.  A  pause.) 

ALL.    Oh 

REBECCA.  (Places  hat  on  table.  Pause)  It  seems 
just  a  little  dull  here.  Could  we  play  a  game  ? 


34        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

EMMA  JANE.  I'd  like  to,  but  I  can't  think  of  any. 

ALICE.    Nor  I,  neither 

MINNIE.  7  can — tableaux! 

ALICE  and  EMMA  JANE.  That's  it (Joyfully) 

Tableaux ! 

CLARA  BELLE.  (Red-haired  and  freckled,  and  has 
a  refined,  likeable  face;  is  poorly  but  neatly  dressed) 
Rebecca's  splendid  at  tableaux.  What'll  you  do  ? 

ALL.  What'll  we  do?  What'll  we  do?  What'll  we 
do? 

REBECCA.   A  Bible  play ! 

EM  MA  JANE.  Goody!  Goody! 

REBECCA.  You'll  be  Absalom,  Minnie,  and  hang 
to  the  apple  tree  by  your  hair. 

MINNIE.  Oh.  I  couldn't  hang  by  my  hair — I 
couldn't  do  that 

REBECCA.  Oh,  it's  easy You  stand  on  the 

table,  we  wind  your  hair  around  the  bough,  and  then 
suddenly  we  take  away  the  table. 

MINNIE.  (Mutinously)  No,  I  will  not  be  Abs- 
labum,  so  there! 

EMMA  JANE.   (Loyally)   I  will! 

ALL.  (Cry)  Look  at  your  hair !  (While  pointing 
to  EMMA  JANE'S  short  hair,  which  she  has  forgot- 
ten.) 

REBECCA.  Well,  never  mind.  Let's  play  a  fairy 
tableau — the  Princess  All-Fair  shut  up  by  a  witch 
in  a  high  tower. 

MINNIE.  Where's  the  tower? 

REBECCA.  There's  the  barrel.  We'll  use  it  for  a 
tower!  ( GIRLS  put  barrel  over  her.)  I'll  tell  you  the 
story.  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little  Princess 
so  beautiful  that  they  called  her  All-Fair 

EMMA  JANE.   What  a  perfectly  ellergant  name! 

REBECCA.  (Continuing)  And  when  she  was  six- 
teen a  wicked  old  witch  stole  her  away  and  shut  her 
up  in  a  high  tower.  It  hadn't  any  door  and  only  one 


ACT  i         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM         35 

little  window  was  up  at  the  top.  And  the  witch  used 
to  come  under  the  tower  and  call:  "All-Fair,  All- 
Fair  !  Let  down  your  hair !"  Now  All-Fair,  all  fair, 
had  long  shining  hair.  She  used  to  unbraid  it  and 
lean  out  of  the  window,  wind  it  round  a  hook,  and 
even  then  it  fell  twenty  feet  to  the  ground. 

CLARA  BELLE.  Oh,  she  never  had  it  cut? 

REBECCA.  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  something  to  make 

me  look  like  a  Princess (Unbraiding  her  hair) 

Maybe  there's  something  in  that  basket  on  the  porch. 
(To  MINNIEJ  And  give  me  one  or  two  of  my  flow- 
ers   (MINNIE  hands  REBECCA  flowers.  She  fast- 
ens them  in  her  hair,  while  CLARA  BELLE  and  EMMA 
JANE  come  running  back  from  porch  with  the  calico, 
dress  over  one  arm  and  EMMA  JANE  shaking  out  the 
lace  curtain.) 

EMMA  JANE.  What  a  perfectly  ellergant  lace  cur- 
tain. 

ALICE.  (Scornfully  snatching  away  the  calico 
dress;  throwing  it  aside)  A  Princess  don't  want  a 
calico  dress. 

(REBECCA  takes  the  curtain.  EMMA  JANE  and  ALICE 
pin  it  about  her  shoulders  and  let  it  hang  for  a 
sweeping  trail.  Enter  LADD  from  road  L.  ;  stands 
at  gate.) 

REBECCA.  Now,  this  is  the  most  important  part. 
(The  CHILDREN  sit  at  the  foot  of  the  barrel.)  One 
day  the  Prince  was  passing  through  the  forest 

ALICE.  (With  a  gesture  of  romantic  delight)  Oh, 
I'm  so  glad  there's  a  Prince ! 

REBECCA.  And  he  heard  a  song  coming  from  the 
tower.  It  was  so  sweet  he  stopped  to  listen — (LADD 
stops,  listens,  smiling.) — but  he  had  to  go  back  to  his 
palace — very  sad — for  there  was  no  way  for  him  to 
get  in  and  find  the  singing  Princess. 


36        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

ALICE.  (Hopelessly)  Oh,  dear ! 

REBECCA.  But  he  remembered  the  song.  And  next 
day  he  came  back  and  hid  behind  a  great  oak  tree. 
Then  he  saw  the  witch  come  along  and  call : 
"All-Fair,  All-Fair, 

Let  down  your  long  hair!" 

And  All-Fair  let  down  her  hair  and  the  Witch  used 
it  for  a  ladder  and  climbed  up. 

MINNIE.  (With  a  gesture  at  her  own  head)  It 
must  have  hurt  awfully! 

REBECCA.  (Exalted)  As  if  anyone  would  care 
how  it  hurt !  But  it  didn't,  because  it's  a  fairy  story.- 
So  the  Prince  said:  "Aha " 

ALICE.  Aha!   So  the  Prince  said,  "Aha!" 

REBECCA.  " — if  that's  the  ladder  they  climb  by, 
I'll  try  my  own  .luck  tomorrow." 

EMMA  JANE.  (With  a  blissful  sigh)  Oh,  eller- 
gant! 

REBECCA.    And  the  Prince  came  back,   just  at 
dusk,  and  called  like  the  Witch— 
"All-Fair,  All-Fair, 
Let  down  your  long  hair !" 

And  All-Fair  leaned  out  of  the  little  window  and  let 
down  her  beautiful  hair,  and  the  Prince  climbed  up 
to  her.  (Here  REBECCA  thrills  with  her  own  emo- 
tion) When  he  got  to  the  top  and  looked  at  All-Fair, 
she  was  so  perfectly  lovely  that  lumps  came  into  his 
throat.  And  the  Prince  made  love  to  All-Fair  and 
she  to  him — and  they  were  married  that  very  same 
night  and  lived  happily  in  the  Prince's  castle  forever 
and  ever  and  ever !  (Pause.  Picture.) 

EMMA  JANE.   Perfectly  ellergant! 

OTHER  CHILDREN.  Splendid!  Lovely!  Sweet! 
Sweet!  (LADD  moves  o\ff  L.,  smiling.) 

CLARA  BELLE.  (Getting  into  calico  dress)  Let's 
play  it  out !  I'll  be  the  Witch. 

ALICE.  Oh,  let  me ! 


ACT  I          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          37 

CLARA  BELLE.   Oh,  let  me ! 

ALICE.  Well,  what'll  I  be? 

REBECCA.    Emma  Jane,  the  Prince 

EMMA  JANE.    Me? 

REBECCA.  Behind  the  pump — you  can  be  a  hunts- 
man. 

MINNIE.  And  what'll  I  be? 

REBECCA.  You  can  be  a  huntsman  too — (EMMA 
JANE  gets  behind  pump) — stealing  down  while  the 
Witch  calls ! 

CLARA  BELLE.  (While  EMMA  JANE  steals  down 
with  dipper  on  her  head) 

"All-Fair,  All-Fair, 
Let  down  her  long  hair !" 
(Brief  tableau.) 

EMMA  JANE.  (Gawkily,  trying  her  best  to  imi- 
tate REBECCA'S  emotion.  Quotes)  "Ha,  ha!  If 
that's  what  they  use  for  a  ladder,  I'll  try  my  own 
luck  tomorrow " 

REBECCA.  (  GIRLS  lift  barrel  over  her.  She  steps 
majestically  out.  Gives  hand  to  EMMA  JANE,)  And 

now  we're  riding  away  to  the  palace (They 

prance  on  "the  palace" — and  gaily  around  yard  like 
horses.) 

CLARA  BELLE.  (Excitedly)  And  the  Witch  is 
after  you !  (Starts  after  her  with  the  broom.) 

ALICE.  We're  the  huntsmen  riding  after  the  Witch. 
(Takes  MINNIE'S  hand  and  they  start,  the  whole 
flock  tearing  madly  round  and  catching  towels  from 
the  berry  bushes  to  wave  in  the  air.) 

(MIRANDA  and  JANE  hurry  down  the  road  frcmi  R. 
As  they  reach  the  gate  MIRANDA  flings  it  open 
and  enters,  followed  by  JANE.  ALICE  puts  large 
tin  pot  cover  with  handle  on  top  across  her 
breast.  MINNIE  has  one  also.  They  come  c, 
CHILDREN  are  around  them,  flicking  towels, 
making  noise.  They  stop,  see  MIRANDA,  run  to 


38        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

their  hiding  places — EMMA  JANE  behind  wood- 
pile, MINNIE  under  table,  ALICE  in  barrel, 
CLARA  BELLE  behind  bush  down  stage  by  porch. 
Picture.  A  brief  and  terrible  silence,  then  MIR- 
ANDA, coming  slowly  down  to  c.,  fixes  her  eyes 
finally  upon  REBECCA,  flushed  and  picturesque, 
but  awestruck.) 

MIRANDA.  (Looking  at  all  the  children  and  singl- 
ing out  the  stranger — speaks  like  a  knife,  short  and 
sharp)  I  suppose  you're  Rebecca! 

REBECCA.  (Trying  to  recall  her  lost  beautiful  be- 
havior) Mother  sends  you  her  love  and 

MIRANDA.  (Breaking  in  on  the  word  "love")  You 
needn't  pass  any  compliments.  Just  tell  me  first  why 
you're  here  at  all — not  being  expected  till  tomorrow 
and  why  I  find  you  makin'  a  bedlam  o'  my  premises  ? 
(JANE  is  about  to  interpose.)  Don't  you  interfere 

with  me,  Jane — you (Pointing  to  the  frightened 

CLARA  BELLED  Take  off  my  wrapper  that  you've 
made  so  free  with,  an'  get  out  of  this  yard  as  quick's 
your  legs  will  carry  you!  (CLARA  BELLE  takes  off 
wrapper,  whispers  goodbye,  goes  meekly,  then  runs 
off  c.  to  L.) 

REBECCA.  (During  above  business)  Oh,  Aunt  Mir- 
anda, it  wasn't  Clara  Belle's  fault!  I  asked  her  to 
play 

MIRANDA.  (Breaking  in)  I've  no  doubt  of  it — the 
impudence  of  her  snoopin'  round  my  private  porch, 
takin'  things  out  o'  my  clothes  basket.  (REBECCA 
takes  off  curtain.  JANE  starts  to  help  her  fold  it.) 
Jane  Sawyer,  don't  you  touch  that  curtain.  Let  them 
that  done  the  damage  undo  it.  (REBECCA  folds,  cur- 
tain; puts  it  on  porch.  MINNIE  sneaks  off  out  of 
gate.  ALICE  exits  out  woodshed  door  L.I  in  barrel. 
The  PERKINS'  supper  BELL  rings  with  a  loud  re- 
verberation.) 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          39 

EMMA  JANE.  (Thankfully)  There's  the  bell— 
that's  me — I've  got  to  go !  (Disappears  rapidly  down 
road  L.  with  dipper  still  on  her  head.) 

REBECCA.  We  didn't  expect  you  back  so  soon.  We 
were  going  to  clear  up  every  single  thing! 

MIRANDA.  An'  then  hope  I'd  never  find  out,  I 
s'pose.  (Looking  round  yard)  Didn't  you  bring  any 
trunk? 

REBECCA.   It's  up  in  my  room. 

MIRANDA.  (Still  more  angrily)  Who  took  the  lib- 
erty of  breaking  into  my  house? 

REBECCA.  Mrs.  Perkins  unlocked  the  door,  but  I 
wouldn't  go  in  because  Mother  told  me  to  be  so  par- 
ticular. 

MIRANDA.  It's  easy  to  see  she  told  you  that.  Now 
pick  up  them  things — and  be  spry  about  it !  (REBECCA 
goes  to  L.  to  pick  up  things;  picks  up  towels;  puts 
them  on  table;  takes  flowers  up  to  hand  to  MIRANDA. 
Sternly  to  JANE;  The  whole  village  has  been  in  'n' 
out  o'  this  yard,  pryin'  and  rummagin' — I  know  'em. 
(Sees  bouquet  in  REBECCA'S  hand.  Turning  to  RE- 
BECCA; What's  that? 

REBECCA.  Flowers  I  brought  you  from  Sunny- 
brook  Farm. 

MIRANDA.  You  just  heave  those  faded  things  into 
the  woodshed 

REBECCA.  Oh,  Aunt  Miranda 

MIRANDA.  Goon (REBECCA  does  so.) 

JANE.   Oh,  Miranda! 

MIRANDA.  (To  JANE,)  Don't  "Oh,  Miranda"  me. 
I  know  what  I'm  about.  (To  REBECCA  J  Now  carry 
that  tin  cover  and  put  it  on  the  table.  (To  expedite 
matters,  JANE  does  set  some  things  to  rights  in  spite 
of  MIRANDA.)  Instead  of  seeing  how  little  trouble 
you  could  be  in  a  house  that  ain't  your  own  home, 
look  what  you've  done!  (Pause)  Leave  the  rest  o' 
the  clutter  alone  an'  stand  here  in  front  o'  me.  (RE- 


40        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

BECCA  comes  down;  stands  bravely  in  front  of  MIR- 
ANDA. ) 

JANE.  (Hurriedly  to  MIRANDA,  before  REBECCA  is 
down)  You're  bein'  too  hard  on  her,  Miranda.  It's 
only  her  first  day. 

(ABIJAH  FLAGG  enters,  c.  from  R. ;  stands  at  gate; 
witnesses  scene.) 

MIRANDA.  Mebbe  it'll  be  her  last.  I  thought  I  was 
invitin'  a  Christian  child  here  an'  not  a  towsly 
headed  little  play-actor.  Take  out  those  flowers  an' 
fix  up  your  hair — I've  got  no  patience  with  your 
ways,  for  all  the  world  like  your  mincin',  prancin', 
dancin'  father. 

REBECCA.  (Rebelliously,  and  toward  end  fearfully) 
I'll  take  most  everything  you  say  to  me  because  I've 
been  doing  wrong — though  I  didn't  mean  to — oh,  I 
didn't  mean  to — but  I  won't  have  my  father  called 
names.  He  was  a  perfectly  lovely  father,  that's  what 
he  was,  an'  it's  mean  to  call  him  names  when  he's 
dead 

MIRANDA.  Don't  you  answer  me  back.  Your  father 
was  a  vain,  shiftless  man,  an'  you  might's  well  hear 
it  from  me's  anybody.  He  spent  your  mother's  money 
an'  left  her  with  seven  children. 

REBECCA.  (Sobbing)  It's — s — something  to  leave 
s-seven  nice  children! 

MIRANDA.  Not  when  other  folks  have  to  help 
feed,  clothe  an'  educate  'em.  Now  you  go  upstairs 
to  your  room,  an'  don't  let  me  hear  a  sound  from  you 
till  morning.  Take  your  things — go  on. 

JANE.    (Interrupting)   Don't  you  think 

MIRANDA.  (While  REBECCA  gathers  up  hat,  para- 
sol, gloves;  turning^  to  JANEJ  Am  I  the  head  of  this 
family  or  not  ?  (Firmly  but  not  brutally  as  REBECCA 
moves  toward  steps)  Wipe  your  feet  on  the  mat, 


ACT  i         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM         41 

hang  your  hat  in  the  entry — go  up  the  back  way  to 

the  first  door  in  front  of  you (REBECCA  goes 

upstairs.)  I'll  put  a  bowl  of  bread  an'  milk  at  the 
head  o'  the  stairs — for  I'm  too  soft-hearted  to  let  you 
go  hungry  to  bed.  (ABIJAH  FLAGG  exits  c.  to  L.  RE- 
BECCA exits  into  house.  THUNDER.  A  summer 
thunder  shower  has  been  gathering  slowly  but  surely 
since  entrance  of  REBECCA,  and  now  threatens  to 
break.  Gradual  blackness;  far-away  rumble  of 
THUNDER.)  See  if  everything's  under  cover, 
Jane,  for  the  shower's  comin'  an'  it's  going  to  be  a 
big  one.  (Goes  to  steps,  picks  up  dress  and  curtain 
and  puts  them  in  basket  on  porch.) 

JANE.  I  don't  often  speak  my  mind,  Miranda,  but 
you  oughtn't  to  have  said  what  you  did.  Lorenzo 
was  what  he  was,  but  he  was  Rebecca's  father. 
(Picking  up  towels,  broom  and  tin  cover.) 

MIRANDA.  That  child  won't  be  anything  but  an 
imp  o'  Satan  till  she  gets  some  o'  that  same  father 
trounced  out  of  her.  I'm  glad  I  said  just  what  I  did. 

JANE.  I  daresay  you  are — but  it  wasn't  good  man- 
ners, an'  it  wasn't  good  religion!  (MIRANDA  exits 
into  house,  JANE  zvith  her.  More  THUNDER  and 
LIGHTNING.  REBECCA  appears  at  ell  chamber 
window.  VOICES  heard  inside,  preparing  for 
shower.) 

MIRANDA.  (Inside)  See  to  the  settin'  room  and 
our  bedroom.  (More  banging  of  windows  and 
blinds,  while  REBECCA  steps  out  of  her  window  onto 
porch.  More  THUNDER  and  LIGHTNING.) 

JANE.  (Calling  inside)  Close  your  windows,  Re- 
becca. 

(REBECCA,  with  no  hat,  her  long  brown  cape  over 
her,  and  her  pink  parasol  under  it,  climbs  down 
the  trellis,  at  upper  end  of  porch — more  slam- 
ming of  windows,  etc.,  as  she  does  so.  She  steals 


42        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

to  gate  and  goes  out.  RAIN  pours  down,  as 
in  the  half  light,  we  see  her  little  shadowy  fig- 
ure running  down  the  road  L.  A  good  old-fash- 
ioned Maine  thunder  shower — and  during  its 
progress,  dark  change  to  the  COBBS'  kitchen.) 

END  OF  SCENE  ONE 


ACT  ONE— SCENE  TWO 
The  Cobbs"  kitchen. 

A  simple,  scrupulously  clean  New  England 
kitchen.  Windows  R.  and  L.  Painted  floor  with 
braided  and  rag  carpet  mats.  Stove  L.2,  with 
teakettle  (practical).  Also  teapot  and  frying-pan 
with  hash  in  it.  Small  deal  kitchen  table  c.,  cov- 
ered with  white  oilcloth  and  set  with  plates, 
knives,  forks  and  cups  and  saucers  for  two — 
sugar  bowl,  milk  pitcher,  butter  dish,  oval  dish 
castor,  half  an  apple  pie,  a  dish  of  preserves  and 
a  plate  of  cold  soda  biscuits — the  whole  covered 
with  a  large  square  of  white  mosquito  netting.  A 
rocking-chair  and  three  ordinary  kitchen  chairs 
conveniently  placed  for  business.  Sink  up  L.  at 
back,  with  a  row  of  tin  and  agate  saucepans 
hanging  over  it.  Small  iron  pump  at  one  end. 

DISCOVERED:  JEREMIAH  COBB  sitting  by  the  stove, 
in  his  shirt  sleeves,  waiting  for  the  kettle  to  boil 
— meantime  rolling  spills  (lamp-lights)  out  of 
strips  of  newspapers. 

Brief  interval  for  the  scene  to  be  felt,  then 
ABIJAH  FLAGG  opens  the  door  L.C.  slightly — 
pokes  his  head  in. 

ABIJAH.  (To  COBB;  Say,  Mr.  Cobb,  Mis'  Cobb 
asked  me  to  tell  you  she's  got  to  set  up  all  night  with 
Seth  Strout,  so  don't  expect  her  home  to  supper. 

COBB.   Come  in.   Is  Seth  wuss? 

ABIJAH.  (Comes  down  R.  of  COBB^  Doctor  says 
43 


44        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

he  ain't  diseased  anywheres,  but  he  don't  seem  to 
have  no  durability.  An'  say — you  fetched  the  little 
Temperance  girl  to  the  Brick  House,  didn't  yer? 

COBB.  (Brightening — beaming)  Hev  you  seen 
her? 

ABIJAH.  Jes's  I  was  hurryin'  by  they  was  havin' 
high  words — you  bet. 

COBB.    (Quickly — anxiously)    How's  that? 

ABIJAH.  I  don't  know  no  more  about  it  than  you 
do,  but  jest  as  I  was  comin'  by  on  the  run — well,  you 
know  how  Aunt  Mirandy's  yard  generally  looks — it 
looked  as  if  the  devil  had  been  having  an  auction  in 
it,  and  Mirandy  was  just  a-finishin'  one  of  her  mad 
spells  and  sendin'  the  young-un  to  bed  'thout  any 
supper. 

COBB.  What !    ( Gets  up  quickly.) 

ABIJAH.  Can't  stop  any  longer.  Got  to  fetch 
Pain  Killer  for  Seth.  (Exit  ABIJAH,  closing  door. 
Brief  pause.) 

COBB.  (To  himself)  To  bed— this  time  of  day. 
'Thout  any  supper.  Wall,  I  swan.  (Pause.) 

(Then  a  timid  KNOCK  at  the  L.C.  door.  COBB  lis- 
tens. Then  the  door  opens  timidly  and  REBECCA 
stands  in  the  doorway,  a  wretched,  bedraggled 
little  figure,  her  pink  parasol  hidden  under  her 
black  cape.  Picture.) 

REBECCA.  May  I  come  in  ? 

COBB.  O'  course  ye  can  come  in !  (REBECCA  comes 
in.  COBB  goes  to  her,  closing  the  door,  and  she  stands 
pathetically,  with  little  gulps  and  indrawings  of 
breath  that  follow  stifled  sobs.) 

REBECCA.  (Comes  down  stage)  You — you  didn't 
think  I'd  come  to  see  you  so  soon,  did  you,  Mr. 
Cobb? 

COBB.  (Ignoring  the  tears — playing  at  once  the 
genial  host)  I  wa'n't  expectin'  a  lady  to  call  in  a 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          45 

thunderstorm — an'  you're  wet's  sops.  Guess  we'll 
take  off  your  cape.  (Takes  off  cape,  hangs  it  over  a 
chair,  puts  chair  at  stove,  with  back  to  stove,  while 
REBECCA  sits  holding  her  little  parasol)  There,  draw 
up  to  the  stove  and  dry  yourself. 

REBECCA.  It's  only  my  cape  that's  wet,  and  my 
parasol's  spoiled — jmt  like  my  life 

CoEfc.  Well,  we'll  open  it  up  and  see  how  it  looks 
by  and  qy.  Then  we'lPhave  a  nice  visit  and  find  out 
what  spoHed  life.  (Puts\$arasol  in  sink,  then  comes 
to  her.) 

REBECCA.  (Suddenly)  Oh,  Mr.  Cobb,  I've  run 
away  from  the  Brick  House.  Please,  will  you  keep 
me  tonight  and  take  me  to  Temp'rance  tomorrow? 
I  haven't  got  any  money  for  my  fare,  but  I'll  send 
it  to  you  afterwards.  (Pause.) 

COBB.  I  guess  we  won't  quarrel  'bout  money,  you 
an'  me.  We  was  goin'  to  hev  a  ride  some  day  any- 
how— only  'twas  goin'  to  be  a  jolly  kind  of  a  trip  to 
Milltown 

REBECCA.  (Rising.  Breaking  in  with  a  sob)  I'll 
never  see  Milltown  now ! 

COBB.  That'll  be  too  bad,  but  if  it  can't  be  helped— 
(Breaks  off)  Come  over  here,  'longside  of  your 

Uncle  Jerry (Places  a  little  wooden  cricket  near 

him.  Sits  in  chair  L.  of  table)  Just  set  down  on  that 
there  wooden  cricket  an'  out  with  the  whole  story. 
(REBECCA  sits,  leans  her  head  on  COBB'S  homespun 
knee  and  sob\  COBB,  after  a  pause,  patting  REBEC- 
CA'S head)  Y^ue^i  tejjkfne  while  you're  cryin'  an' 
I  can't  do  nothing  foVye  till  I  know  what  ails  ye. 

REBECCA.  (Between  sobs)  We  were  playing  and 
we  cluttered  up  the  yard — I  meant  to  clear  it  up — I 
truly  did — but  when  Aunt  Miranda  came — she  said — 
dreadful  things  to  me — I — I  was  sent  right  to  bed — 
a  thing  that  never  ought  to  be  done  the  first  time  a 
person  comes  to  visit.  I  climbed  out  of  the  window — 


46        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

I  couldn't  live  in  the  Brick  House,  dear  Mr.  Cobb — 
I  just  couldn't ! 

COBB.  There— there 

REBECCA.  Please  don't  tell  me  I  could — and  do  say 
you'll  take  me  home. 

COBB.  I'll  take  you  any  place  you  say  when  you 
make  up  your  mind,  but  you  ain't  made  it  up  yet — 
have  you  ? 

REBECCA.   Yes,  I  have. 

COBB.  Mebbe  ^ou've  got  a  mote  in  your  eye,  as 
the  Scripture  say^  and  if  you  have,  you've  got  to 
pluck  it  right  out.  (Diplomatically)  Don't  you  fret 
a  mite.  I'll  see  my  little  passenger  through  somehow 
— an'  if  she  ain't  had  any  supper 

REBECCA.  I  don't  want  any  supper. 

COBB.  Then  how  would  you  like  to  sit  at  the  table 
and  watch  me  eat?  Mother's  out  takin'  care  of  sick 
folks — an'  how  would  you  like  to  set  in  her  place  an' 
pour  me  out  a  cup  o'  tea?  (REBECCA  rises;  starts  to 
cry.  To  back  of  table)  Stop  that  laughing.  (To  L.J 
Stop  it,  now — stop  it — or  I'll  begin  to  laugh  myself. 
Stop  it.  There,  I  knew  you  would.  Jest  you  take 
off  the  nettin'  while  I  turn  out  the  hash.  (REBECCA 
takes  netting  from  table;  lays  it  on  cupboard.  Turn- 
ing out  the  hash.  Goes  to  stove  and  gets  tea  and 
hash)  I  thought  I  was  goin'  to  hev  a  lonesome  sup- 
per all  by  myself,  an'  'stead  o'  that  it'll  be  a  reg'lar 
tea  party.  (Sets  hash  and  tea  on  table;  sits  L.  while 
REBECCA  sits  R.j  You  play  you  are  Mother  and  pour 
me  out  some  tea,  and  I'll  hand  you  some  hash.  I 
tell  you,  this  is  jolly,  ain't  it?  (REBECCA  pours  tea 
for  COBB,  while  he  serves  the  hash.  REBECCA  passes 
COBB  the  tea  wMe  he  passes  her  a  plate  of  hash. 
REBECCA  starts  to  cry.)  Have  some  sugar 

REBECCA.   Um  hum 

COBB.   Some  more  ? 

REBECCA.   Um  hum 

COBB.  Some  more  ? 


ACT  i          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          47 

REBECCA.  Um  hum 

COBB.  Land,  you  have  got  a  sweet  tooth,  ain't 
you?  Have  some  more? 

REBECCA.   (Shaking  head)   Um  hum 

COBB.  Well,  I'm  glad  you  know  when  you've  got 
enough.  Stir  it  around  good,  darling,  so  there  won't 
be  any  sediment  in  the  bottom  of  the  cup.  Mother 

hates  to  find Oh,  this  is  good  tea.  I  made  it 

myself.  (Starts  to  drink  tea  and  burns  his  mouth) 
My,  my,  it's  been  near  the  fire.  If  I  had  known  it 
was  as  hot  as  that  I'd  a  told  you  about  it.  Our  first 
an'  last  tea  party.  (Pause.  COBB  eats;  drinks  tea.) 

REBECCA.   Last  ? 

COBB.  Ain't  you  goin'  back  to  Temp'rance  ?  (Dip- 
lomatically) I  s'pose  your  mother'll  be  glad  to  see 
you  again — terrible  glad  ? 

REBECCA.  (Pause.  REBECCA  begins  to  think.  With 
some  apprehension)  She — she  won't  like  it  that  I 
ran  away,  I  s'pose 

COBB.  That'll  worry  her  some,  o'  course,  but — try 
one  o'  Mother's  biscuits  with  sauce  on  it 

REBECCA.  (Taking  a  biscuit)  I'll  make  her  un- 
derstand, just  as  I  did  you. 

COBB.  That  won't  be  hard  to  do — specially  if 
you've  never  been  any  trouble  to  her  at  home.  You 
haven't,  have  you? 

REBECCA.  Sometimes.  (She  is  about  to  bite  a  bis- 
cuit. This  remark  makes  her  pause  apprehensively. 
With  biscuit  in  the  air.) 

COBB.  (Goes  on  eating,  pretending  not  to  notice)  I 
s'pose  she  was  thinkin'  o'  your  schoolin',  lettin'  you 
come  down  here — but  lands,  you  can  go  to  school  in 
Temp'rance. 

REBECCA.  There's  only  two  months'  school  now  in 
Temp'rance — and  the  farm's  too  far  from  all  the 
other  schools. 

COBB.  (Looks  a  bit  sorry  for  this,  then  casually 
attacks  the  apple  pie)  Oh,  well — there's  other  things 


48        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

in  the  world  beside  edjarcation.  There's — there's 

some  pie Have  a  piece — oh,  I  forget.  You  don't 

want  any  supper.  (Offers  REBECCA  some  pie.) 

REBECCA.  Yes,  I  do.   I  want  some  pie. 

COBB.  I  thought  you'd  have  pie.  (Gives  her  the 
pie.) 

REBECCA.  (Thoughtfully)  Yes — though  Mother 
thought  that  edj creation  was  going  to  be  the  making 
of  me.  (Tries  to  swallow  some  tea.) 

COBB.  Well,  never  mind.  It'll  be  nice  for  you  to 
be  all  together  again  at  the  farm — such  a  house  full 
o'  children ! 

REBECCA.  That's  the  trouble.  It's  too  full.  (COBB 
thinks  this  over,  eating  his  pie.)  But  Hannah  could 
come  in  my  place. 

COBB.  (Diplomatically)  You  s'pose  Mirandy  an' 
Jane'd  have  her?  I'd  be  most  afraid  they'll  be  kind 
o'  mad  at  your  runnin'  away,  you  know,  and  you 
can't  hardly  blame  'em Spread  some  o'  that  pre- 
serve on  your  bread,  darlin' !  Well,  it's  a  splendid 
school  down  here,  an'  the  teacher  can't  hardly  wait 
to  see  ye.  She's  heard  you're  a  good  scholar.  You 
know. 

REBECCA.  (Pause.  REBECCA  looks  pleased)  Did 
she? 

COBB.  You'd  'a'  liked  her  if  you'd  stayed. 

REBECCA.  Would  I  ? 

COBB.  I  s'pose  you've  got  to  give  it  all  up  on  ac- 
count o'  your  Aunt  Mirandy. 

REBECCA.  (After  a  pause,  bursting  out)  I  just 
can't  bear  to  tell  Mother  how  I  behaved — nor  how 
Aunt  Miranda  scolded  me.  Oh,  I  don't  believe  any- 
body in  the  world  of  my  youngness  was  ever  in  such 
awful  trouble. 

COBB.  Did  you  answer  her  back?  You  didn't 
darst,  I  s'pose.  Jest  set  there,  did  ye,  an'  let  it  hail 
on  ye? 


ACT  i         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM         49 

REBECCA.  (A  little  ashamed)  I — I  hailed  some 
myself — just  at  the  very  last ! 

COBB.  Well,  Mirandy's  cranky,  an'  she's  sour.  I 
guessed  she  was  nussed  on  bonny  clabber  an'  green 
apples.  I  don't  say  you've  been  all  in  the  wrong,  but 
if  'twas  to  do  over  again,  I'd  say :  "Your  Aunt  Mir- 
andy's going  to  give  you  clothes  an'  board  an'  school- 
in',  all  at  a  big  expense,  but  she  kind  of  heaves  bene- 
fits at  your  head's  she  would  bricks — but  they're 
benefits,  just  the  same;  an'  mebbe  it's  your  job  to 
kind  o'  pay  for  'em  with  good  behavior." — Now, 
Jane's  a  leetle  more  easy-goin'  than  Mirandy,  ain't 
she? 

(WARN  Curtain.) 

REBECCA.  Oh,  I  like  Aunt  Jane ! 

COBB.  Poor  Jane !  I'm  most  sorry  you're  goin'  on 
her  account.  She's  been  the  pleasant  critter  'bout 
your  comin' — plannin'  out  what  you'd  wear  an'  where 
she'd  take  yer — an'  what  comp'ny  you'd  be  for  her 
winter  evenin's! 

REBECCA.   (Brightening)  Did  she  really  want  me  ? 

COBB.    (Has  finished  supper — taken  out  his  pipe) 

Land  o'  Liberty,  she  'bout  worked  her  hands  off 

(Fills  his  pipe.  The  SHOWER  is  almost  over.  It 
begins  to  grow  more  LIGHT.)  P'r'aps  ye  never 
looked  into  the  closet  where  I  set  your  trunk,  an'  so 
ye  didn't  see  the  pink  calico  dress  hangin'  there  all 
ready  for  ye.  (REBECCA'S  eyes  begin  to  shine.) 
Mother  was  over  to  the  store  an'  she  says  your  Aunt 
Mirandy  was  bound  to  hev  brown,  but  no — Jane  she 
fit  for  pink. 

REBECCA.    Dear  Aunt  Jane! 

COBB.  "Rebecca  loved  colors  when  she  was  a  little 
mite  of  a  baby,"  says  she,  "  'n  'f  pink'll  make  her  any 
happier,  then  pink  she  shall  hev!" 

REBECCA.   Oh,  a  new  pink  dress? 

(JERRY'S  shafts  have  reached  home.    He  knows  it 


50        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTI 

and  is  careful  not  to  took  at  REBECCA,  who  is 
straightening  up,  smoothing  her  hair,  etc.) 

COBB.  (After  a  good  pause)  The  shower's  over ! 
Everything  tomorror'll  shine  like  a  new  pin — when 
you'n  me's  drivin'  back  home,  up  Temp'rance  way. 

REBECCA.  (Meantime  tosses  her  head,  pushes  back 
hair,  gets  up,  gets  cape  and  parasol,  comes  to  COBB, 
who  is  down  R.  ;  speaks  with  spirit,  her  temperament- 
al gaiety  once  more  in  the  ascendant)  I  shan't  be 
drivin'  up  Temp'rance  way !  My  shower's  over  too ! 
I'm  going  straight  back  to  the  Brick  House — climb 

through  the  window (Gaily)  And  if  you  should 

be  going  by,  Mr.  Cobb,  you  just  come  in  and  see  me 
catching  Aunt  Mirandy's  bricks  and  paying  for  them 
with  good  behavior.  Goodbye!  Goodbye!  (Quick 
disappearance  out  doors.) 

COBB.  Goodbye! 

CURTAIN 


ACT  TWO 

SCENE:  The  Ladds'  cottage  and  old-fashioned  gar- 
den and  the  high  road.  Midway  down  stage  L., 
about  half  the  cottage,  with  its  roomy  porch, 
projects  to  a  little  L.C.  The  grass  extends  down 
to  the  curtain  line  and  joins  the  highroad  which 
runs  up  and  down  R.  without  any  dividing 
fence. 

Low,  wide  steps  lead  to  the  porch  and  prac- 
tical front  entrance.  The  whole  place,  though 
simple,  has  an  air  of  thrift  and  loving  care.  Such 
flowers  as  would  bloom  in  the  Autumn,  asters, 
dahlias,  etc.,  are  growing  in  liberal  profusion. 
Low  lilac  bushes  (not  blooming)  surround  the 
porch  R.  of  steps  and  well  up  around  the  R.  cor- 
ner; tall,  beautiful  elms  and  maples  (brilliant 
colors)  rise  back  of  cottage  above  the  roof  and 
chimneys,  border  the  highroad,  and  mask  the 
scene  R.L.  and  back.  One  maple,  more  beautiful 
than  the  rest,  grows  well  down  on  the  R.,  its 
shades  overhanging  both  grassy  turf  and  road. 

There  is  the  effect  of  much  garden,  and  the 
rest  of  the  cottage  extending  off  stage  to  the  L. 
The  highroad  up  stage  turns  L.,  losing  itself  be- 
hind trees  and  bushes,  and  has  a  fork  leading  R. 
about  R.2. 

There  are  chairs  and  a  low  footstool  on  the 
porch. 

A  good-sized  paper  bag,  crumpled  up,  lies  in 
the  greensward,  concealed. 

Gentle  breeze  stirs  the  leaves  throughout  the 
act. 

5* 


52       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACT  n 

Wherever  the  garden  beds  are  not,  there  is 
grass,  no  paths. 

DISCOVERED  :  The  PERKINS'  wagon  R.2.  The  wagon, 
facing  up  stage,  is  just  between  trees. 

Also  some  brilliant-colored  descriptive  cata- 
logues, in  wagon. 

REBECCA  is  alone,  standing  in  the  wagon,  lean- 
ing over.  She  stands  up  restlessly,  looking 
toward  fork  and  horse's  head  as  if  watching 
someone.  Smoothes  her  hair  and  tosses  her 
braids.  Holds  the  picture  briefly. 

EMMA  JANE.  (Off  stage)  I  hitched  the  horse,  Re- 
becca. Do  you  think  he  will  stand? 

REBECCA.  (Standing  in  wagon,  calling  off  R.  in 
laughing  good-humor)  He's  all  right,  Emma  Jane. 
He  wouldn't  move,  even  if  he  wasn't  tied.  (REBEC- 
CA climbs  down  out  of  wagon,  while  EMMA  JANE 
enters  from  R.2  fork.  REBECCA  is  bare-headed,  wears 
a  soft  green  wool  dress,  or  any  becoming  color  that 
will  harmonize  with  the  Autumn  background.  Her 
well-known  brown  cape  is  tied  about  her  shoulders, 
her  two  long  dark  braids  are  curled  at  the  ends. 
EMMA  JANE  wears  brown  cashmere,  with  touches  of 
bright  pink  or  cherry-color  hat  to  match.  Neither 
costume  for  a  day's  outing  should  be  "dressy."  But 
EMMA  JANE'S  inclines  to  dowdiness  and  over-elabo- 
ration. Stretching  her  arms  out  of  the  beauty  of  the 
scene)  Oh,  Emma  Jane,  isn't  it  simplee  lovely!  If 
God  knows  how  beautiful  Saturdays  were,  why  didn't 
He  make  more  that  one  in  a  week? 

EMMA  JANE.  Everything  would  be  perfectly  eller- 
gant  if  only  you  hadn't  lost  your  hat ! 

REBECCA.  (Shaking  back  her  braids)  It  doesn't 
spoil  my  Saturdays.  It  makes  it  better ! 

EMMA  JANE.  Oh,  Becky! 


ACT  ii         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          53 

REBECCA.    (Composing  poetry)    Sh! 
"How  doth  the  busy  porcupine 

Lament  his  shining  quill! 
For  Becky'll  have  a  brand  new  hat — 

(Pauses  for  thought,  then  triumphantly) 
And  send  her  aunt  the  bill!"    (Laughs.) 
EMMA  JANE.    (Comes  down)    Becky,  don't  carry 
on  so !  They'll  hear  us. 

REBECCA.  There  isn't  anybody  at  home  in  that 
house. 

(Three  newspapers,  tightly  wrapped,  one  after  the 
other,  come  flying  through  the  air,  across  the 
greensward,  and  land  not  far  from  the  maple. 
The  first  one  lands  just  as  REBECCA  has  finished 
her  speech.  Both  girls  turn,  startled,  and  watch 
the  landing  of  the  second  and  third.) 

REBECCA  and  EMMA  JANE.  (Apropos  of  news- 
papers) It's  Uncle  Jerry  Cobb! 

COBB.  (Enters  R.2,  carrying  bucket)  Well,  I  swan ! 
What  are  you  doing  here,  youngsters,  so  far  from 
home? 

EMMA  JANE.   It's  a  kind  of  a  se-se-secret. 

REBECCA.  A  secret  we  can't  tell  till  Thanksgiving. 
We've  got  Emma  Jane's  horse  for  the  whole  day, 
and  my  porcupine  hat's  in  the  river !  The  river ! 

COBB.  Seems  to  be  a  pretty  gay  season  in  River- 
boro.  (Laughs  and  leans  against  maple.) 

REBECCA.  (As  one  keyed  to  a  pitch  of  foolishness. 
Quotes  dramatically  to  COBB,) 

"Woodman,  spare  that  tree, 
Touch  not  a  single  bough !" 

(Continuing  laughing — runs  around  him 

and  pushes  him  to  c.) 
Come  on,  Uncle  Jerry.   Stay  a  while ! 

EMMA  JANE.   Do,  Uncle  Jerry! 

REBECCA.   (To  R.)    Say  you  will. 


54        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTII 

COBB.  (Weakens  deliriously)  I've  got  Clara  Belle 
out  there  waitin'  for  me. 

REBECCA.   Clara  Belle? 

COBB.  She  was  lookin'  kind  o'  down  in  the  mouth 
this  mornin',  so  I  just  coaxed  her  up  'longside  o* 
Uncle  J.  for  an  outin'. 

REBECCA.  On  the  stage  ? 

CLARA  BELLE.  ( Off  stage,  calling)  Hoo-hoo-hoo- 
hoo! 

COBB.  She's  out  here  on  my  box  seat. 

EMMA  JANE.  Hoo-hoo! 

REBECCA.    Hoo-hoo ! 

(Enter  CLARA  BELLE  from  R.2.  Flies  into  REBECCA'S 
arms.) 

EMMA  JANE.   (To  COBB)  She's  part  of  the  secret. 

COBB.  An'  seein'  as  I  ain't — I'd  better  be  makin' 
myself  scarce.  (Starts  to  go.) 

GIRLS.  (Holding  on  to  COBB'S  coat  tails,  etc.)  Oh, 
no !  Stay  for  a  little  while !  And  maybe  we'll  let  you 
be  part  of  our  secret. 

COBB.  I've  got  my  mail  to  deliver,  an'  Mis'  Me- 
serve's  liniment,  an'  Delia  Week's  sewin'  silk,  an' 
Mis'  Robinson's  mouse  trap 

ALL.   Yes,  you  will ! 

COBB.  Still  I  guess  I'll  let  the  Universe  run  itself 

for  a  spell  and  be  a  part  of  your  secret (Sits  on 

bucket  c.  GIRLS  sit  around  him.) 

REBECCA.  (As  they  sit)  Now,  if  you'll  be  nice 
you'll  learn  things  that  nobody  else  knows.  Abijah 
and  Minnie  and  Alice  are  going  to  meet  us  here,  and 
when  we  finish  our  business — we'll 

COBB.  Goin'  into  business,  be  ye?  You  ain't  get- 
tin'  into  any  mischief? 

REBECCA.   No ! — but  perhaps  it's  safer  to  tell  you. 

CLARA  BELLE.   Yes,  let's ! 

EMMA  JANE,  You  won't  tell? 


ACT  ii         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          55 

COBB.  No,  cross  my  heart,  see !  (Crosses  heart.) 

REBECCA.  Well,  then — we're  selling  soap. 

COBB.   Sellin'  soap? 

EMMA  JANE.  To  get  something  for  the  Simpsons. 

CLARA  BELLE.  Something  lovely ! 

COBB.  Tip  top !  Do  the  aunts  know  about  it  ? 

REBECCA.  No,  I  find  it  works  better  when  I  tell 
them  things  afterwards.  They've  gone  to  Portland, 
and  I'm  staying  with  Emma  Jane!  Oh!  It's  like 
Heaven !  What  do  you  think  ?  I  pinned  some  poetry 
on  Aunt  Miranda's  nightgown  sleeve,  and  she'll  find 
it  when  she  goes  to  bed.  Want  to  hear  it? 

COBB.  Course  I  do !  Don't  Mother'n  me  keep  all 
your  pieces  in  the  family  Bible? 

REBECCA.  (Taking  paper  from  her  pocket  and  giv- 
ing it  to  COBBJ  Here  is  the  copy  of  it 

COBB.  "A  Week  of  Sins,  by  Rebecca  Rowena 
Randal." 

REBECCA.  Aunt  Miranda  makes  me  write  down 
the  wrong  things  I  do,  so's  not  to  do  them  again. 

COBB.   (Reading — in  sing-song) 

"I  went  up  the  front  stairs,  instead  of  the  back: 
I  dropped  the  blue  pitcher  and  gave  it  a  crack. 
The  screen  of  my  window  forgot  to  put  in " 

REBECCA.  (Quoting  from  memory — feelingly) 
"And  this,  'tis  well  known,  is  the  terriblest  sin!" 
(ALL  laugh.) 

COBB.   (Continuing) 

"I  left  out  the  soda  in  mixing  the  bread, 

It  most  killed  the  pig,  Aunt  Miranda,  she  said ! 
I  try,  but  I  cannot  prevent  doing  harm." 

REBECCA.    (Quoting  in  sing-song) 

"I  ought  to  go  back  to  my  Sunnybrook  Farm." 

COBB.  Hooray  for  the  Union !  That  beats  anything 
in  the  back  of  the  Almanac.  Does  your  teacher  train 
ye  in  your  writin',  Rebecca?  (All  the  GIRLS  groan.) 

CLARA  BELLE.  She  trains  us  somethin'  dreadful  on 
writin',  'cause  she  don't  know  much  arithmetic. 


56        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACT  n 

COBB.  Seems's  if  she'd  ought  to  know  most  o'  the 
branches,  gettin'  five  dollars  a  week,  and  nothin'  to 
do  but  board  herself  out  of  it. 

CLARA  BELLE.  Teacher  says  she  can't  save  any- 
thing on  five  dollars  a  week. 

COBB.  My!  My!  Times  are  getting  more'n  more 
extravagant !  A  teacher  couldn't  save  money  on  five 
dollars  a  week  had  ought  to  have  a  gardeen.  Here's 
the  rest  of  your  party. 

(ALICE  and  MINNIE  appear  R.I.     ALL  exchange 
greetings,  "Hello!    Hello!"  etc.) 

EMMA  JANE.   Well,  I  thought  you'd  never  come. 

MINNIE.   Mother  had  to  finish  my  new  skirt. 

ABIJAH.  (Enters  with  box  of  soap  on  his  shoul- 
der, R.2)  Hello,  everybody. 

ALL.    Hello,  Bije! 

EMMA  JANE.    (To  ABIJAHJ   Did  you  get  it? 

ABIJAH.  Watson  let  me  have  this  box  to  start  on. 
He'll  settle  with  you  when  you  get  rid  of  it.  Guess 
that'll  be  sometime! 

COBB.  (To  EMMAJ  What's  in  the  box,  Bije,  the 
secret  ? 

ABIJAH.  No — soap. 

COBB.  You  could  use  a  little  of  it  on  yourself, 
Bije ! 

ABIJAH.  (Grinning)  This  soap's  for  sale — not 
for  use ! 

COBB.  Have  the  girls  taken  you  into  the  firm  ? 

ABIJAH.  No,  siree!  I've  got  something  better  to 
do !  But  Emma  Jane  wanted  me  to  get  the  box  over 
here  for  her.  My  back's  nearly  broke — but  here  she 
be.  Where  will  I  put  it,  Emma  Jane? 

EMMA  JANE.  Right  alongside  of  the  wagon. 

ABIJAH.  (Puts  box  down  at  the  end  of  wagon) 
Well,  I'm  glad  to  get  rid  of  that.  Anything  else, 
Emma  Jane? 


ACT  ii         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM         57 

ALICE.  Abijah  would  run  his  legs  off  for  you, 
Emma  Jane.  (ALL  laugh.) 

EMMA  JANE.   No,  I  don't  want  anything  else. 

ABIJAH.  Well,  I  can't  stay  any  longer  cause  I'm 
chuck  full  of  business.  I've  got  to  go  and  rehearse 
the  new  Fife  and  Drum  Corpse.  I  can't  play  any 
instruments,  so  they  made  me  Captain.  So  goodbye, 
girls!  Goodbye,  Emma  Jane !  (Exits  R.2.) 

ALL.   Goodbye! 

COBB.  Well,  you  seem  to  be  all  right,  so  I'll  leave 
you. 

ALL.  No!  Stay  awhile!  (Form  a  ring  around 
him,  going  round.) 

COBB.  I've  got  my  mail  to  deliver.  I  can  hear  Mis' 
Meserve  calling  for  liniment  and  see  Mis'  Robinson 
standin'  at  the  top  of  the  hill  holdin'  a  mouse  by  the 
tail.  Goodbye!  Good  luck  to  ye!  (Breaks  through 
line  and  picks  up  bucket.  Exits  R.J 

ALL  GIRLS.  Goodbye!  Goodbye!  (ALICE  and 
MINNIE  are  apart  a  little  down  R.J 

CLARA  BELLE.  Do  you  think  we  can  ever  sell 
enough  to  get  the  premium  by  Thanksgiving? 

REBECCA.  'Course  we  can,  now  we're  among 
strangers.  Did  you  show  the  picture  of  it  to  your 
mother  ? 

CLAPA  BELLE.  She  was  sick  and  didn't  take  much 
notice.  If  we  only  can  get  the  premium,  maybe  it'll 
cheer  her  up. 

MINNIE.  (To  ALICE^  You  never  told  me  we  were 
going  to  sell  soap  for  Clara  Belle.  My  mother  won't 
let  me  play  with  them  Simpsons — so  there! 

CLARA  BELLE.  (Overhearing — hotly)  Nobody 
wants  to  play  with  you !  (Goes  up  stage,  crying.) 

REBECCA.  (To  MINNIE  and  ALICE,)  You  can't  be 
so  mean.  You  simply  can't. 

MINNIE.  (Thoroughly  spiteful)  I  may  be  mean, 
but  I  don't  keep  company  with  jailbirds,  anyhow! 

REBECCA.    Minnie  Smellie,  if  ever  I — catch — you 


58       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACT  n 

— saying — that  word  again,  I  think  I  shall  have  to 
slap  you ! 

ALICE.  You  wouldn't  darst.  I'll  tell  my  mother 
and  my  teacher. 

REBECCA.  (To  both)  I  don't  care  if  you  tell  your 
relations!  You  may  tell  the  President,  the  State  o' 
Maine,  and  the  whole  nation !  Go  right  home ;  we'll 
get  along  without  your  help,  and  you  ought  to  say 
you're  sorry — on  your  bended  knees. 

ALICE.  You  think  you're  smart.  But  everybody 
knows  you're,  mortgaged.  (ALICE  and  MINNIE  exit 
R.I,  ALICE  making  a  face.  REBECCA  turns  to  CLARA 
BELLE,  whose  tears  have  dried  during  REBECCA'S 
valiant  defense.) 

REBECCA.  We  won't  mind  Minnie !  We'll  all  for- 
get all  about  her  and  only  remember  what  we're  going 
to  do.  We  will  get  the  premium.  The  Excelsior  soap 
never  had  such  a  day  in  its  life.  Emma  Jane  and  I 
know  the  circular  by  heart,  and  we  make  it  sound 
like  the  man  who  sold  toothache  drops  at  the  fair. 
Do  you  know  your  speeches  ? 

CLARA  BELLE.  Hm — hm. 

REBECCA.  Well,  let's  see,  what  do  you  do  when 
you  try  to  sell  the  soap?  Emma  Jane  is  the  lady — 
come  on,  be  the  agent.  (CLARA  BELLE  pulls  an  imag- 
inary bell  and  says,  "Bing."  EMMA  JANE  appears, 
looking  stolid.) 

CLARA  BELLE.  How  do  you  do,  lady?  (Quoting 
confusedly)  "Have  you  any  trouble  in  doing  your 
housework,  lady?  Any  difficulty  in  keeping  your 
husband  and  children  clean,  contented  and  comfort- 
able, lady?  If  so,  I  may  be  of  service  to  you,  lady." 

REBECCA.  Now  say  yours,  Emma  Jane. 

EMMA  JANE.   Oh,  no. 

REBECCA.   Clara  Belle  will  be  the  lady. 

EMMA  JANE.   Oh,  no. 

REBECCA.  Oh,  come  on ! 

EMMA  JANE.   (Pulls  bell  and  says,  "Bing"  Quot- 


ACT  ii         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          '59 

ing  like  a  parrot)  "Can  I  sell  you  a  little  soap  this 
afternoon?  Six  cakes  in  an  ornamental  box.  It  is 
made  of  such  pure  ingrediances  that  a  sick  person 

could  eat  it  with  relish  and  profit "  Oh,  I  can't 

eat  that  soap — I  mean  I  can't  say  that  part  about 
eating !  It  makes  me  feel  like  a  fool. 

REBECCA.  (Reproachfully)  It  takes  so  little  to 
make  you  feel  like  a  fool,  Emma  Jane!  (Turning 
promptly  to  EMMA  JANE,)  Now  go  on! 

EMMA  JANE.  "The  snow  white,  the  snow  white, 
the  snow  white " 

REBECCA.  " — is." 

EMMA  JANE.  " — is  the  most  remarkable  laundry 
soap  now  on  the  market.  The  youngest  baby  can 
wash  in  it " 

REBECCA.   (Interrupting)   Not  in  it — wash  with  it. 

EMMA  JANE.   Not  in  it — wash  with  it. 

REBECCA.  And  don't  forget  to  say  "babe." 

EMMA  JANE.  Well,  baby's  the  same  thing. 

REBECCA.  Of  course  it's  the  same  thing,  but  a  baby 
has  got  to  be  called  "babe"  in  a  circular,  same  as  in 
a  composition.  Would  you  rather  call  it  infant? 

EMMA  JANE.  No,  I  can't  bear  infant.  It  don't 
sound  a  mite  like  a  baby  to  me.  Oh !  I  hope  I  shan't 
get  scared. 

REBECCA.  You  mustn't  start  in  on  soap  unless 
somebody  is  washing  at  the  tub.  You  must  "lead  up" 
gradually.  Now  where'll  you  begin  selling? 

EMMA  JANE.  On  my  relations.  That'll  be  five 

families.  And  you  begin  on  this  one (Leading 

to  LADD'S  cottage)  Right  here. 

REBECCA.  (Taking  a  good  look  at  cottage)  I'd 
rather  not  begin  on  this  house.  It  looks  too  clean  and 
soapy.  I'll  take  this  one  last !  And  you  can  meet  me 
here. 

COBB.  (Off  R.2J  All  aboard  for  Riverboro ! 

CLARA  BELLE.  That's  me.  Goodbye.  (Kiss;  starts 

R.2.) 


60       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACT  n 

REBECCA.  Here's  your  soap.  (CLARA  BELLE  comes 
back  for  soap.  To  EMMA  JANEJ  Think  of  the  pre- 
mium. Don't  be  a  scare-cat  and  remember  to  "lead 
up."  Here's  your  soap.  (Kiss.  Exit  EMMA  JANE 

R.2.) 

(REBECCA  gets  two  boxes  of  soap  out  of  box1,  one 
red  box  and  one  white  box.  Exit  REBECCA  L.3. 
Just  as  the  two  children  are  disappearing,  ADAM 
LADD  comes  through  the  bushes  L.I  up  to  R.c. 
Crosses  to  newspapers,  stoops  and  picks  them 
up.  He  tears  the  wrapper  off  one  and  opens  it. 
He  wears  old  shooting  suit  and  old  but  pictur- 
esque felt  hat;  has  gun  on  his  arm.  As  LADD 
tears  wrapper  from  nezvspaper,  at  the  same  time 
moving  toward  the  porch,  ABNER  SIMPSON 
comes  through  R.2  and  greets  LADD.  Lays  gun 
on  table.) 

LADD.  Hello,  Simpson! 

SIMPSON.  (Greeting  LADD}  Well,  Squire  Ladd, 
I've  found  a  hoss  for  your  aunt. 

LADD.  Did  you? 

SIMPSON.  Up  Acresville  way,  there's  a  man  named 
Daly  that  raises  horses,  and  knows  one  when  he  sees 
it.  Folks  round  here  call  any  blame  thing  a  hoss 
that's  got  four  legs  and  casts  a  shadder! 

LADD.  (Laughs;  slaps  paper  on  edge  of  porch; 
takes  out  his  pipe;  sits  on  step)  What  price  does 
your  man  ask  ? 

SIMPSON.  Hundred  dollars,  includin'  my  commis- 
sion. (LADD  sits  on  steps.)  An'  the  hoss  is  worth 
two  hundred! 

LADD.  (Taking  out  his  tobacco  pouch.  Drily  smil- 
ing at  SIMPSON}  They're  always  worth  double 
what's  asked. 

SIMPSON.  (While  LADD  fills  his  pipe)  Oh,  you 
can't  tell  me  nothin'  about  tradin',  Squire.  I  know  a 


ACT  ii         'REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM         61 

square  deal  an'  I  know  a  trick  deal — an'  I  shouldn't 
try  none  o'  them  on  you,  that  are  cuttin'  your  eye 
teeth  right  along  in  Boston.  (With  a  chuckle — picks 
up  paper  bag  and  begins  to  smooth  it  out)  I'll  keep 
that  kind  for  this  hair-splittin',  sanctimonious  crew 
round  here. 

LADD.  (Striking  match)  You  don't  seem  to  like 
this  village.  Why  don't  you  go  where  you  can  do 
better  ? 

SIMPSON.  (While  LADD  lights  his  pipe)  I've  tried 
a  good  many  of  'em  an'  they're  all  alike.  I'm  a  round 
peg  in  a  square  hole.  That's  what  I  am,  Squire ! 

LADD.  (Smoking  and  looking  at  SIMPSON,)  Can't 
you  whittle  off  the  peg — make  it  a  little  squarer,  just 
enough  to  fit  the  hole? 

SIMPSON.  (After  giving  LADD  a  sharp  look  and 
concluding  he  doesn't  mean  anything  special  by  this 
suggestion)  I  don't  want  to  suit  the  cheese-parin', 
back-bitin'  crew !  They've  jailed  me  once  or  twice 
for  nothin'  in  the  world!  (LADD  incredulously  at 
SIMPSON.,)  They'll  jail  for  guesswork  round  here. 

LADD.   (Dryly)  What  did  they  guess? 

SIMPSON.  (Giving  the  bag  one  more  fold)  Just 
about  a  sleigh  that  disappeared.  Nothin'  ever  would-a 
come  of  it  if  I  could  'a'  got  a  lawyer  with  any  sense — 
a  lawyer'll  skin  the  hide  off  n  a  mule  if  his  client's 
got  money — if  he  hasn't,  he's  too  terrible  honest  to 
lay  a  finger  on  him.  A  lawyer's  'bout  the  worst  there 
is,  without  it's  a  minister.  I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  a 
minister — never  could !  Don't  suppose  you  could  get 
me  a  payin'  job  down  Boston?  (Whacks  the  folded 
bag  flat  and  puts  it  in  his  pocket.) 

LADD.  Would  your  family  like  Boston  ? 

SIMPSON.    I  ain't  no  fireside  ornament. 

LADD.  What  can  you  do? 

SIMPSON.  There  ain't  much  I  can't  do,  but  I  ain't 
never  had  a  chance.  (Rises  and  walks  up  and  down, 
hands  driven  into  pockets.  Pulls  his  piratical  mous- 


62        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTII 

tache  now  and  then)  I'd  like  to  work  on  a  boat  that'd 
sail  right  out  of  sight  o'  land  an'  human  flesh — the 
wind  blowin'  an'  the  sea  heavin'  and  me  sailin'  to 
Kingdom  Come! 

LADD.  (More  than  ever  interested)  Go  right  on, 
Simpson — have  it  out ! 

SIMPSON.  I'd  like  to  do  big,  quick  tradin' — I'd  see 
't  no  man  fleeced  me — but  I  wouldn't  stop  to  fleece 
him  neither.  I'd  be  too  busy  jest  tradin'.  Lord, 
Harry,  wouldn't  I  like  to  trade  real  horses  an'  break 
colts — train  'em  to  saddle  an'  harness — ride  'em,  drive 
'em,  set  up  with  'em  nights — sell  'em,  an'  train  more. 
That  would  be  something  like  livin'. 

LADD.  Right  you  are,  Simpson.  You've  got  to 
love  your  job  to  be  good  for  much. 

SIMPSON.  Here  I  be,  doin'  odd  jobs  to  help  out. 
Everybody  down  on  me  'cause  I  don't  keer  what  I 
do,  Lord  Harry.  The  County  Jail  ain't  any  duller'n 
this  village !  Here  I  be,  bound  to  it  hand  and  foot ! 

LADD.   Bound?  How? 

SIMPSON.  Ain't  I  dead  broke?  Ain't  I  got  a 
woman  and  children  hanging  on  to  me?  (Pause) 
Keep  your  freedom,  Squire !  I've  parted  with  most 
o'  mine,  but  you  bet  I'll  stick  to  what  I've  got  left. 

LADD.  Freedom  isn't  the  only  thing  to  be  thankful 
for,  and  my  money  isn't  worth  half  as  much  as  your 
home  and  children. 

SIMPSON.  It  ain't !  Well,  I  wish  you'd  try  'em  a 
spell — or  git  a  set  o'  your  own.  They  come  terrible 
cheap — women  and  children. 

LADD.  (Dreamily)  Not  the  kind  I'm  hunting  for. 
(Rises;  puts  azvay  his  pipe)  Look  here,  Simpson, 
your  eye's  wrong  this  morning.  (SIMPSON  eyes 
LADD  a  bit  thoughtfully.)  It's  easy  to  see  you're  a 
misfit  where  you  are.  ( SIMPSON  agrees  by  setting 
his  hat  jauntily  over  one  eye  and  tugging  at  his  mous- 
tache.) Sit  down  a  minute.  I've  got  a  letter  to  write, 
and  then  I'll  find  you  a  job  to  start  on.  (LADD  exits 


ACT  ii         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM         63 

up  steps  and  into  house.  As  LADD  goes  up  steps  MRS. 
SIMPSON,  more  wan  and  shadowy  and  timid  than 
ever,  toils  across  the  road  from  the  fork  R.2,  carrying 
a  basket  of  washing,  while  SIMPSON  crosses  down  L/) 

SIMPSON.  (To  MRS.  SIMPSON,  as  she  toils  across 
the  greensward)  I  like  that  fellow.  He  is  all  right. 
Brought  Mrs.  Ladd's  wa^hin',  hev  you?  Well,  there's 
nobody  there  but  the  Squire  to  home.  Take  it  in  and 
don't  be  backward  'bout  chargin'  for  it. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (Never  whining,  but  always  pa- 
thetic. Pause)  They  told  me  two  places  today  that 
I  needn't  call  any  more.  (SIMPSON  looks  at  her, 
rises,  sticks  his  hands  in  pockets  and  sits.)  You  said 
they'd  never  find  out  the  truth,  but  they  must  have, 
or  they'd  keep  on  giving  me  work.  (MRS.  SIMPSON 
plays  the  scene  low,  as  though  fearful  of  being  over- 
heard.) 

SIMPSON.  (Rises)  Consarn'em!  Ev'ry  last  hypo- 
critical one  of  'em ! 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  They  don't  think  I'm  fit  even  to 
do  their  washin'.  Mebbe  I  ain't — but  it's  hard, 
brought  up  as  I  was. 

SIMPSON.  (Rather  fiercely)  Don't  you  tell  me 
how  you  was  brought  up  this  morning.  I  ain't  my- 
self and  I  can't  stand  it!  • 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  (After  a  brief  pause)  Seems  as 
if  I  couldn't  see  our  poor  sticks  o'  furniture  loaded 
on  to  a  cart  again !  I  want  to  have  the  baby  respecta- 
ble. You  promised,  Abner — *—  (Pause.  Then  plead- 
ing) Ain't  I  stuck  by  you  through  thick  and  thin  ? 

SIMPSON.  (Not  brutally  but  philosophically)  I 
like  things  better'n  they  are.  I  ain't  forgot  how  Qara 
Belle's  mother  browbeat  me.  Lord  Harry,  if  she 
hadn't  died,  I  should!  (Pause.  Softly)  Don't  you 
fret.  You're  all  right.  I'll  stick  to  you  so  long  as  you 
don't  worry  me.  If  we  git  the  cold  shoulder  here, 
there's  plenty  of  other  places! 


64        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACT  u 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  Not  so  many  with  a  river  and  a 
pump  in  the  kitchen  sink.  (Pause.  Taking  up  her 
basket  hopelessly)  Oh,  I  do  love  this  place  better'n 
all  the  others.  Clara  Belle's  so  happy  too,  with  Re- 
becca jest  fightin'  for  her  at  school  and  everywhere. 
We  could  all  be  happy  if  we  was  only  good.  You 
don't  know  what  'tis,  Abner,  to  live  amongst  a  whole 
village  full  of  women  and  not  one  of  'em  ever  across 
your  doorsill.  Me  that  would  love  to  be  a  neighbor. 
(Exits  up  around  back  of  cottage.) 

SIMPSON.  (Pulls  his  mustache — pushes  his  hat 
back)  Well,  if  I  ain't  'bout  the  most  hectored  man  in 
the  State  o'  Maine!  It  looks  to  me's  if  I'd  ev  to  take 
a  class  in  the  Sunday  School  somewhere  purty  soon. 

LADD.  (Re-entering  from  house,  a  hatchet  in  one 
hand  and  letter  in  other)  Feeling  any  better  ?  Strong 
enough  for  a  little  work  ? 

SIMPSON.   (Crosses  to  steps)  Jest  itchin'  for  it. 

LADD.  Drop  this  letter  at  the  Post  Office  and  go 
down  to  the  brook  and  thin  out  some  of  those  alders. 
My  aunt  wants  to  see  the  water  from  the  bedroom 
window!  (Handing  SIMPSON  the  hatchet  from  his 
position  at  corner  of  porch.) 

SIMPSON.  (Taking  hatchet)  You  bet  she  does! 
(Laughs)  Takes  all  my  spare  time  thinning  out 
bushes  that  keep  the  women  folks  from  seein'  things ! 
(Exits  L.I.  As  SIMPSON  starts  for  bushes  and  LADD 
goes  on  porch  and  picks  up  his  gun  from  table,  pre- 
paratory to  cleaning  it,  a  shrill,  sharp  VOICE  is 
heard  off  stage  up  L.) 

WOMAN'S  VOICE.  (Off  stage.  Pause)  Stop  ring- 
ing my  bell !  Go  away !  Go  away !  (Pause.  LADD 
cleaning  his  gun.)  I  don't  care  what  you've  got  to 
sell.  I  don't  want  it  anyway! 

(REBECCA  comes  hastily  from  up  L.  at  the  turning 
and  down  the  road;  halts  by  large  maple,  out  of 


ACT  ii         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          65 

breath.  LADD  standing  with  back  toward  RE- 
BECCA, looking  through  barrel  of  gun.  REBECCA 
halts  at  R.J 

REBECCA.  How  do  you  do  ? 

LADD.  (Turns;  looks  at  REBECCAJ  How  do  you 
do? 

REBECCA.  Are  you  the  lady  of  this  house — I  mean 
— it's — it's  a  beautiful  day,  isn't  it? 

LADD.    (Amused)   It  is  indeed. 

REBECCA.  (Leading  up)  Ahem!  Splendid  weather 
for  drying  clothes. 

LADD.  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  that  way. 

REBECCA.  Is  the  lady  of  the  house  at  home  ? 

LADD.  (Laying  aside  his  gun,  comes  down  steps) 
I'm  the  lady  of  the  house  at  present.  What  can  I  do 
for  you  ? 

REBECCA.  Have  you  ever  heard  of  the — would  you 

like — or  I  mean (Desperately)  Do  you  need 

any  soap? 

LADD.   (Smiling)  Do  I  look  as  though  I  did  ? 

REBECCA.  (Dimpling)  Um,  urn,  I  didn't  mean 

that.  I  have  soap  to  sell.  Hm (Holds  box  up 

and  speaks  like  an  auctioneer)  I  would  like  to  intro- 
duce to  you  a  very  remarkable  soap — the  best  on 
the  market.  It  is  called 

LADD.  (Interrupting)  Oh,  I  know  that  soap — made 
of  pure  vegetable  oils,  isn't  it? 

REBECCA.   (Earnestly)  The  very  purest ! 

LADD.   No  acid  in  it? 

REBECCA.  (Seriously.  All  business)  Not  a  single 
drop. 

LADD.  And  yet  a  child  could  do  the  Monday  wash- 
ing with  it  and  use  no  force  ? 

REBECCA.    (Correcting  him — seriously)    A  babe! 

LADD.  Oh — a  babe,  eh  ?  That  child  grows  younger 
every  year — wise  child!  (REBECCA  smiles  for  the 
first  time.)  Won't  you  be  seated,  madam? 


66        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTII 

REBECCA.  Thank  you.  (REBECCA  sits.  LADD  sits 
opposite  her  on  steps.) 

LADD.  I  feel  as  if  I'd  like  to  know  a  lot  more  about 
that  soap. 

REBECCA.  (Opening  one  of  the  boxes)  The  white 
is  twenty  cents  a  box.  (Shows  the  soap)  That's  for 
laundry  purposes.  Laundry  is  the  same  as  washing, 
you  know,  but  it's  a  nicer  word.  You  soak — I  mean, 
immerse  the  garments  in  the  tub,  lightly  rubbing 
the  more  soiled  portions  with  the  soap.  Leave  them 
submerged  from  sunset  to  sunrise,  and  it  is  then  that 
the  mere  babe  can  wash  them  without  effort. 

LADD.  (Meets  REBECCA'S  glance  and  holds  it, 
thinking  of  her  eyes)  What  about  the  red  soap? 
Can  you  make  strawberr^  ice  cream  with  that,  in 
case  of  unexpected  company? 

REBECCA.  (Her  eyes  now  twinkling)  I  shouldn't 
wonder.  But  it's  twenty-five  a  box.  (Showing  the 
box) 

"The  world's  best, 

By  every  test." 

(LADD  takes  the  box,  then  takes  out  a  cake  and  smells 
it.)  Five  cents  more  for  that  beautiful  color  isn't 
much,  is  it?  Have  you  any  mother  or  wife  that  I 
can  talk  to  about  it? 

LADD.  No — I  have  an  aunt,  but  she  has  gone  to 
Portland. 

REBECCA.  That's  where  mine  have  gone.  Isn't  it 
delightful  to  have  aunts  away?  I  hope  you'll  excuse 
my  having  no  hat?  (Joyfully^  laughs)  The  wind 
lifted  it  right  off  and  blew  it  into  the  brook  as  we 
were  crossing  the  bridge.  (LADD  laughs.)  Oh,  if 
you'd  ever  seen  the  hat !  Hideous  thing,  with  porcu- 
pine quills,  that  are  as  strong  as  iron ! 

LADDY.  Shan't  I  run  down  to  the  brook  and  try 
to  rescue  it  for  you?  (Starts  up.) 

REBECCA.  (Laughing  herself  now)  Oh,  no,  it's 
no  use.  Thank  goodness,  it  went  swirling  down  on 


ACT  ii         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FABM         67 

the  white  water,  and  it's  over  the  dam  by  now.  Emma 
Jane  saw  the  wind  blow  it  away,  so  I  shan't  be  to 
blame. 

LADD.    Who  is  Emma  Jane? 

REBECCA.  Oh,  she's  my  most  intimate  friend,  and 
she's  helping  me  to  sell  soap.  She  is  the  daughter  of 
a  very  rich  blacksmith  and  doesn't  need  any  money. 
I'm  poor,  but  of  course  my  aunts  wouldn't  want  me 
to  be  a  peddler.  We're  trying  to  get  a  premium  for 
some  friends  of  ours. 

LADD.  I  see !  You're  a  philanthropist. 

REBECCA.  (Dismayed)  Oh,  I  hope  not,  H  it's 
something  worse  than  a  peddler ! 

LADD.  It's  not  worse.  Usually  it's  better.  Now 
tell  me  about  the  friends. 

REBECCA.  They  have  ever  so  many  children — three 
steps,  and  one  of  the  other  kind — but  do  what  they 
can  there  never  seems  to  be  enough  to  eat  or  wear. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  are  mortgaged.  (Confi- 
dentially) We  are  mortgaged  in  my  family,  but  I 
shouldn't  like  you  to  mention  it — for  Aunt  Miranda 
says  it's  a  disgrace,  just  like  smallpox. 

LADD.  You  look  almost  too  young  to  be  mort- 
gaged. 

REBECCA.  I  think  I  must  have  been  born  mort- 
gaged. That's  the  reason  I'm  living  at  the  Brick 
House  and  getting  education — to  pay  it  off.  I  wrote 
some  poetry  about  it — like  that  in  the  hymn  books. 
Want  to  hear  it  ? 

LADD.   Of  course. 

REBECCA. 

"Rise,  my  soul,  stretch  every  nerve, 

Shake  off  thy  coward  fears, 
The  mortgage  lift  from  off  thy  farm, 

And  dry  thy  mother's  tears !" 
Do  you  like  it  ? 

LADD.   Splendid! 

REBECCA.      (Dimpling    delightfully)     My    poor 


68       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACT  u 

friends,  you  know,  haven't  anything  to  make  them 
happy — no  nice  house,  no  furniture,  hardly  any 
shoes  or  stockings,  and  this  circular  has  the  picture 
of  a  most  splendid  premium  which  they  greatly  need. 
(Finding  the  picture  in  the  circular)  It  would  bring 
happiness  and  comfort  to  the  whole  family.  (Offers 
LADD  the  circular  to  look  at  picture.  Rises  enthusi- 
astically) A  magnificent  banquet  lamp — so  high! 
(Measures  with  her  hand,  far  too  high.) 

LADD.  (Looks  up  from  circular.  Holds  the  pic- 
ture) Well,  I  can  see  that  the  family  ought  to  have 
that  lamp — especially  if  you  want  them  to  have  it. 
I've  known  what  it  was  myself  to  do  without  a  ban- 
quet lamp!  (Takes  out  a  pencil.  Hands  REBECCA 
circular)  Let's  do  some  figuring.  Now,  let  me  see — 
(He  goes  up  on  porch;  sits  in  chair.  REBECCA  sits 
on  stool,  at  his  feet,  in  her  interest  pushing  the  low 
stool  nearer  the  edge  of  the  porch)  How  much  do 
your  friends  need  to  secure  the  premium  ?  (Prepares 
to  figure  on  back  of  newspaper.) 

REBECCA.  If  they  sell  two  hundred  more  cakes 
they  can  have  the  lamp  by  Thanksgiving,  and  for  a 
hundred  more  they  can  get  the  shade. 

LADD.   I  see.   Soap  keeps,  doesn't  it? 

REBECCA.  I  am  not  sure — I'll  look  in  the  circular. 
It's  sure  to  tell.  (Looks  in  circular.  Points  to  it) 
Hm!  Hm!  "The  longer  you  keep  it,  the  better  it 

LADD.  They  want  the  shade  and  all.  Well,  I'll  take 
three  hundred  and  fifty  cakes.  (REBECCA  gives  a 
start  of  bewilderment.  The  stool  slips  off  the  edge 
of  the  porch  and  she  falls  backward  into  the  lilac 
bushes;  gets  up  and  goes  to  R.C.  LADD  rises  and 
goes  quietly  down  to  her.  Laughing  with  glee,  but 
not  making  fun)  Are  you  hurt? 

REBECCA.  No,  not  a  bit.  You  bought  so  much 
soap,  it  toppled  me  right  over. 

LADD.  You  should  never  seem  surprised  when  you 


ACT  ii          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM         69 

have  taken  a  large  order.  You  should  have  replied : 
"Can't  you  make  it  four  hundred?"  instead  of  cap- 
sizing in  that  unbusinesslike  way!  (REBECCA  recov- 
ers herself.)  What  is  your  name,  young  lady? 

REBECCA.  Rebecca  Rowena  Randall,  sir.  (Crosses 
to  Rj 

LADD.   Both?    (With  an  amused  smile.) 

REBECCA.  Mother  couldn't  bear  to  give  up  either 
— they're  in  "Ivanhoe,"  you  know. 

LADD.    Would  you  like  to  hear  my  name? 

REBECCA.  Oh,  I'm  sure  you  must  be  Mr.  Aladdin, 
in  the  "Arabian  Nights." 

LADD.  (Amused,  while  REBECCA  still  straightens 
herself  out)  I  remember  Mr.  Aladdin  did  do  a  good 
business  in  lamps. 

(SIMPSON  is  coming  through  the  bushes  down  L.I, 
carrying  the  hatchet  in  one  hand  and  the  large 
paper  bag  he  previously  folded  in  the  other.  It 
is  well  filled  out  with  REBECCA'S  lost  hat,  and  he 
is  carrying  it  carefully.  He  crosses  toivard  RE- 
BECCA and  LADD.  LADD'S  back  is  toward  SIMP- 
SON, but  REBECCA  has  seen  SIMPSON  coming, 
and  looks  beyond  LADD,  smiling  a  welcome  to 

SiMPSONj 

SIMPSON.  Mailed  the  letter  and  trimmed  the  ald- 
ers   (Puts  hatchet  doivn  by  porch)  Land  sakes, 

's  that  you,  Rebecca?  What  are  you  doing  down 
here? 

LADD.  Why,  she 

REBECCA.  (To  LADD;  Sh!  He's  part  of  the  se- 
cret. 

SIMPSON.  (To  REBECCA,)  Got  somethin'  for  you. 
(Holds  bag  up  temptingly  with  much  satisfaction) 
Guess  what  it  is? 

REBECCA.  (Sparkling  .as  if  anticipating  more  hap- 
piness) Nodhead  apples! 


70        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACT  u 

SIMPSON.    No,  guess  again. 

REBECCA.  A  geranium?  (Pause.)  Oh,  I  can't 
guess.  Give  it  to  me.  Quick! 

SIMPSON.  Found  it  sailing  in  the  brook (Tak- 
ing wet  and  bedraggled  hat  out  of  paper  bag;  holds 
it  up  as  milliner  would  for  exhibition)  An'  fished  it 
out  on  account  of  the  plumes.  (Steps  forward  and 
gallantly  offers  the  hat  to  REBECCA.,) 

REBECCA.  (Her  rising  passion  breaking  into  a 
storm)  Don't  you  bring  it  an  inch  nearer.  I  can't 
bear  the  sight  of  it,  and  I  can't  bear  the  sight  of 
you,  either.  I  will  not  wear  that  hateful  hat  again. 
Oh,  I  wish  there'd  never  been  any  porcupines  in  the 
world.  (Pause.) 

SIMPSON.  (Is  so  surprised  he  can't  speak;  stands 
still,  the  hat  still  held  as  an  exhibition;  almost  speech- 
less with  surprise)  Well,  I  swan. 

REBECCA.  Oh,  how  could  you,  Mr.  Simpson,  and 
you  and  me  such  friends !  If  you  had  let  it  alone,  it 
would  have  been  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean  by  now. 

LADD.  That's  where  it  belongs.  (To  SIMPSON,) 
See  that  it  gets  there  or  I'll  never  give  you  another 
day's  work. 

SIMPSON.  ( With  a  knowing  smile.  To  LADD  with 
a  penitent  look  at  REBECCA,)  It's  too  wet  for  you  to 
carry,  Rebecca.  I'll  take  it  home  for  you.  I'd  never 
'a'  fished  it  out  if  I'd  known  how  yer  despised  it. 
(Exit  SIMPSON  R.I.) 

REBECCA.  When  I'm  dead  and  can't  help  myself 
somebody  will  put  it  on  my  head  and  I'll  have  to  be 
buried  in  it 

LADD.  There,  there,  cheer  up!  There  are  other 
hats.  (With  no  undue  sentimentality)  I  bought  one 
once  and  couldn't  find  the  right  girl  to  wear  it.  It 
has  a  wreath  of  red  roses  on  it,  just  like  somebody's 
cheeks  when  she  is  in  a  temper — and  the  brim  is  just 
wide  enough  to Now  I  think  of  it — an  uncle 


ACT  ii         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          71 

of  yours  told  me  he  was  going  to  send  you  just  such 
a  hat 

REBECCA.  (Joyfully)  He  was (Thinks)  Yes, 

'but  I  haven't  any  uncle 

LADD'.  That's  too  bad !  You  ought  to  have  one. 
How  would  you  like  me  for  one? 

REBECCA.  Oh,  I'd  like  you  for  anything — but  you 
are  no  relation. 

LADD.  A  friend,  then  ?   (Extends  his  hand.) 

REBECCA.   (Pleased  and  proud)  Am  I  big  enough  ? 

LADD.  You'll  grow (Upward  inflection  on 

grow.) 

REBECCA.  Then  I'd  like  to  be (Places  her 

hand  in  his.  They  hold  hands  a  second)  Do  you 
want  to  pay  for  the  soap  now? 

LADD.  I  always  pay  promptly — I'll  get  the  money. 
Wait  a  minute (Exits  into  the  house.) 

REBECCA.  Oh,  he  is  Mr.  Aladdin. 

EMMA  JANE.    Hoo!   Hoo!    (Enter  EMMA  JANE 

R.2.) 

REBECCA.  (Calling)  Oh,  Emma  Jane,  Emma  Jane. 
What  do  you  think  ?  We've  got  the  premium !  We're 
all  sold  out!  (EMMA  JANE  opens  her  mouth  and 
drops  soap  boxes.)  The  whole  wagon  full! 

EMMA  JANE.   Who  to? 

REBECCA.  To  the — the  fairy-story  Prince  who 
lives  in  this  house.  (Pause.) 

EMMA  JANE.   What's  his  name? 

REBECCA.  I  don't  know.  I  called  him  Mr.  Alad- 
din, because  he  gave  us  a  lamp. 

EMMA  JANE.  How  could  you  call  him  a  nick- 
name? Did  you  give  him  the  soap? 

REBECA.   Not  yet 

EMMA  JANE.  I'll  get  it (Goes  to  wagon  and 

takes  box  of  soap.) 

LADD.  (Enters  from  house,  money  in  his  hand, 
smiling)  There  is  the  amount 

REBECCA.  We  are  so  much  obliged.  (EMMA  JANE 


72        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  ACTII 

brings  the  box  of  soap  in  -from  wagon.)  This  is 
Emma  Jane. 

.  (WARN  Curtain.) 

EMMA  JANE.    How  do  you  do?    There's  your 

soap (She  places  the  box  of  soap  in  LADD'S 

arms.) 

LADD.  So  I  observe.  (Carrying  soap  to  porch) 
Just  let  me  know  when  you  have  anything  to  sell,  for 
I'm  certain  beforehand  I  shall  want  it.  Goodbye, 
Miss  Rebecca  Rowena 

EMMA  JANE.  (Sotto  voce,  as  LADD  moves  azvay 
to  door)  Isn't  he  perfectly  ellergant? 

REBECCA.     Sh!     (Puts   her  hand   under   EMMA 

JANE'S  mouth)    Goodbye,  Mr.  Aladdin (LADD 

turns,  smiling.)  If  you'll  come  across  the  fields  to 
the  Brick  House  barn,  where  I  do  my  writing — I'll 
read  you  some  more  of  my  poetry. 

LADD.  (Lifting  his  hat,  calling  back)  I  surely 
will!  Goodbye.  (Exit  LADD  into  house.) 

REBECCA.   Goodbye. 

EMMA  JANE.    (Azvestricken)    Oh,  Rebecca!    He 
tipped  his  hat  to  us!   And  we  only  thirteen.   It'll  be 
our  years  before  we're  ladies ! 

REBECCA.    Never  you  mind,   Emma  Jane,   even 

now (Tossing  her  braids  proudly)    We're  the 

beginnings  of  ladies  !  (They  start  to  K.I,  arm  in  arm.) 

QUICK  CURTAIN 


ACT  THREE 

TIME:  The  Harvest  Season. 

The  barn  at  the  Brick  House,  with  its  wide 
double  doors,  back  c.,  giving  upon  a  sunny  yel- 
low brown  stubble-field,  rising  gently  to  a  hill 
distance  of  pines,  caught  together  with  thick 
fringe  of  alder  bushes. 

A  smaller  door  L.2  leads  to  the  house. 

Two  stalls  and  a  practical  hay  mow  are  built 
R.  The  mow  is  piled,  not  too  high,  with  hay  that 
fringes  picturesquely  over  the  edge.  Under  the 
hay  moiv  and  in  other  places  on  barn  floor 
(places  chosen  to  best  expedite  business)  are  a 
pile  of  large  pumpkins  or  squashes,  and  a  pile 
of  corn  ears  with  husks  on. 

A  neat  sleigh,  an  old  spinning-wheel,  and  a 
grindstone  are  up  R.  in  the  empty  stalls.  Below 
them,  well  R.  of  c.,  an  old  pine  table  and  chair. 
A  rough  bench  with  plank  top.  An  inverted 
"Excelsior"  soap  box  with  a  chopping  block. 

Part  of  the  business  of  this  Act  will  be  peeling 
and  cutting  apples.  Hence  these  things  must  be 
practical. 

As   the   CURTAIN  RISES  a  FIFE   and 

DRUM  corps  is  heard  in  the  distance  playing 

"Yankee  Doodle"  in  a  way  that  a  half-trained 

collection  of  country  lads  would  be  likely  to  play. 

73 


74          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACT  in 

The  sound  comes  nearer  and  nearer  till  it  is  in- 
trusive and  quite  diabolical,  while  cheers  are 
heard  off,  good  and  lusty,  and  JEREMIAH  COBB 
appears  in  back  doors  of  barn,  looking  off  in. 
direction  from  whence  the  sound  comes.  He 
carries  a  large  bundle  of  United  States  flag 
bunting,  eight  feet  long,  under  his  arm;  takes 
off  his  hat  and  waves  it  vigorously,  at  the  same 
time  cheering. 

COBB.  Go  it,  Bije!  Go  it,  boys!  (In  doorway, 
waving  hat,  calling  above  the  musical  din)  Go  it !  !  ! 
Three  cheers  for  the  Fife  and  Drum  Corps !  (Otliers 
off  stage  join  his  cheers.)  Hooray !  Hooray !  Hoo- 
ray !  (He  dances  a  jig  up  and  down  to  the  tune  of 
"Yankee  Doodle,"  singing  snatches  of  it.  The 
SOUND  begins  to  die  away.  Just  as  he  is  about  to 
finish,  enter  MIRANDA,  carrying  empty  pan  and 
knife.  She  enters  L.2.) 

MIRANDA.  (To  COBBJ  For  the  Lord's  sake,  Jere- 
miah Cobb ! 

COBB.  (Turns  and  stops  dancing;  halting  about  c. 
Music  is  dying  away  faintly.  To  MIRANDA )  It's 
astonishin'  what  a  lot  o'  musical  talent  there  is  lyin' 
loose  in  Riverboro  that'd  never  been  discovered  if 
'twasn't  for  the  Flag  Raisin'. 

MIRANDA.  (Setting  knife  on  table  R.)  I'm  glad 
you  think  the  bedlam  we're  hearin'  is  music,  or  tal- 
ent. I'd  like  to  stick  my  knittin'  needle  through  the 
bottom  o'  every  drum  in  Riverboro!  (Crosses  to 
basket  with  pan;  fills  it  with  apples  on  i~) 

COBB.  Land,  Mirandy,  cheer  up  an'  git  yer  cam- 
paign shoes  on.  Drums  hev  done  an  awful  sight  o' 
good  in  this  world.  There's  a  heap  o'  patriotism  in 
drums. 

MIRANDA.  (Still  selecting  apples)  An'  a  heap  o' 
rackets !  (Crossing  to  table  with  pan  of  apples,  sits 
and  peels  apples.) 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  75 

COBB.  Where's  Rebecca? 

MIRANDA.  It's  her  play  time,  and  she's  off  askin' 
half  the  village  to  join  her  in  this  barn.  It  ain't  been 
clear  o'  clutter  and  confusion  one  minute  sence  the 
Flag  Raisin'  was  thought  of. 

COBB.  Here's  the  flag,  that  Rebecca's  been  work- 
in'  on. 

MIRANDA.  It's  a  good  idea  makin'  the  flag  'stid  o' 
buyin'  it,  for  that's  a  savin' — but  the  girls  are  gettin' 
vainer'n  peacocks.  Mis'  Perkins  is  inside  now,  stitch- 
in'  lace  on  Emma  Jane's  petticoats. 

COBB.  Land,  Mirandy,  you  can't  expect  to  feed 
children  on  nothin'  but  housework  an'  Sunday 
School  lessons.  And  when  Rebeccy (MIRAN- 
DA sniffs.  COBB  breaks  away  from  his  reflections) 
Here's  a  piece  o'  news  I'm  carryin'  'bout  in  my  sys- 
tem this  mornin'.  I  expect  she'll  about  bust 

MIRANDA.  (Breaking  in)  You'd  better  tell  me 
what  you  want  of  her,  and  see  if  /  think  she'd  ought 
to  hear  it. 

EMMA  JANE.  (Off  stage  L.,  as  though  she  were 
at  a  good  distance,  running  toward  barn;  is  heard 
CALLING)  Rebecca !  (Very  faint  at  first,  but  soon 
quite  loud.) 

COBB.  (Not  heeding  far-away  voice)  Well,  you 
needn't  go  kickin'  the  pail  over  'fore  there's  any  milk 
in  it,  Mirandy 

EMMA  JANE.  (Off  stage  but  nearer)  Rebecca! 
Rebecca ! 

COBB.  (Without  interruption)  You  just  git  Re- 
becca out  here,  an'  if  you  an'  Jane  ain't  's  tickled  as 
she'll  be,  I  miss  my  guess. 

EMMA  JANE.  (Nearer  and  nearer)  Rebecca!  Re- 
becca! Rebecca!  Becky!  Oh,  Becky!  (EMMA  JANE 
appears  at  back  barn  doors,  out  of  breath,  while 
REBECCA  answers  by  suddenly  appearing  at  door  L.2 
with  hair  ruffled  and  straws  sticking  in  it.  MIRANDA 


76          REBECCA  01?  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIII 

rises  from  table  R.  as  if  shot.  COBB  holds  picture. 
EMMA  JANE  comes  down  stage  L.C.,  out  of  breath, 
holding  her  heart  and  trying  to  get  words  out)  Oh, 
'Beccy — wh — d'y — think  ? 

COBB.  (Interrupting)  Now  don't  tell  her  too  sud- 
den, Emma  Jane ! 

REBECCA.  (Breaking  in  excitedly)  What  is  it? 
Please  tell  me ! 

EMMA  JANE.    (Stitt  panting)   It's  about — the 

REBECCA.  About  the  flag-raising!  I  know  it  is! 
(Coming  down)  What — what — what?  (JANE  and 
MRS.  PERKINS  enter  from  L.2.  MRS.  PERKINS  car- 
ries over  arm  a  petticoat  on  which  she  has  been  sew- 
ing lace;  wears  her  thimble  and  holds  a  threaded 
needle.)  Uncle  Jerry! — Emma  Jane!  (JANE  and 
MRS.  PERKINS  halt  a  little  over  the  threshold  of  door 
and  listen.) 

MIRANDA.  (Lifting  her  voice,  pointing  with  the 
apple  knife)  Pick  up  that  book  now,  or  whatever 
they  want  you  to  do,  I  won't  let  you. 

REBECCA.  Now,  it's  all  right,  Aunt  Mirandy! 
(Picks  up  book  from  floor;  lays  it  on  table  R.  REBEC- 
CA sits  on  block  L.C.  MIRANDA  drops  into  chair  by  the 
table,  hopelessly.  EMMA  JANE,  MRS.  PERKINS  and 
JANE  coine  into  the  picture.) 

MIRANDY.  Well,  what  is  it,  Jeremiah? 

COBB.  (To  R.C.,  smiling)  The  Flag  Raisin'  Com- 
mittee has  made  the  following  arrangements.  (Pause. 
Looks  from  one  face  to  another  deliberately.  RE- 
BECCA holds  on  to  the  seat.)  Mr.  J.  Cobb,  wearin' 
a  long  chin  whisker,  red-white-and-blue  overalls  an' 
a  stove-pipe  hat,  will  be  impersonatin'  Uncle  Sam- 
mell 

OMNES.    Uncle  Sam! 

COBB.  (Talking  fast  now,  for  variety)  Every  one 
o'  the  girls  that's  sewin'  a  star  on  to  the  new  flag  is 
to  be  dressed  up  like  one  o'  the  States  o'  the  Union. 
They'll  be  up  on  the  hurricane  deck,  'long  o'  me. 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  77 

EMMA  JANE.   Oh,  how  perfectly  ellergant! 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Pleased  to  death;  to  EMMA 
JANE,)  You  can  wear  your  bronze  slippers. 

COBB.  (Slowing  down;  impressively)  An'  the  girl 
that's  chosen  for  the  most  important  and  partic'lar 

part — of  the  State  o'  Maine,  is (Pause.  ALL. 

wait  breathlessly;  even  MIRANDA  is  keen.  COBB 
looks  slowly  all  around  at  his  expectant  audience) 
Rebecca  Rowena  Randall  of  Sunnybrook  Farm! 
(Brief  pause.) 

REBECCA.  (Rises  slowly;  tries  to  speak;  can  not. 
Sits  again,  like  the  drop  of  a  box  lid)  Me — the  State 
o'  Maine  girl!  It  can't  be  true!  It  simplee  can't. 

COBB.  Tis,  though ! 

REBECCA.    Oh,  Aunt  Jane! 

COBB.  (To  the  general  audience)  Mother  says 
Minnie  Smellie,  with  her  open-work  stockings  an' 
white  slippers,  'bout  carried  the  meetin'  by  storm  one 
while 

MIRANDA.  (Interrupting,  with  family  pride)  I 
guess  we  can  rig  out  Rebecca's  feet  an'  legs  if 
there's  any  occasion. 

REBECCA.  (Rising)  I  don't  care  about  my  feet 
and  legs  if  my  head's  there,  knowing  it's  the  State  of 
Maine.  (Pirouettes  joyously  about  the  barn;  halts 
c.)  Oh,  to  be  going  to  Wareham  Seminary  next 
month  an'  be  the  State  of  Maine  girl  this  week! 
Nobody  could  be  good  enough  for  that,  but  I'll  try! 
(Gives  MIRANDA  a  sudden,  startling  kiss  on  the 
cheek)  You  won't  know  me  by  the  day  of  the  rais- 
ing, Aunt  Miranda !  (Dances  over  to  the  flag,  which 
COBB  has  unfolded.  It  is  of  a  good  size.  COBB  holds 
it  up  as  high  as  he  can.  REBECCA  pounces  upon  the 
flag)  Here's  my  star — my  darling  State  of  Maine! 
They'll  drive  under  the  flag  and  they'll  say,  "Who 
sewed  on  the  star  that  has  such  remarkable  stitches?" 
(Takes  flag  and  drapes  it  about  her  shoulders.) 


78         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACT  in 

MIRANDA.  (Still  a  bit  rigid  from  the  kiss)  I 
shouldn't  be  a  mite  surprised  if  they  did  know  your 
star  from  a  considerable  distance — and  by  the 
stitches,  too!  (GoesR.) 

(Enter  ABIJAH,  ALICE,  MINNIE  from  L.  and  c.  The 
FIFE  and  DRUM  corps  is  returning  from  its 
march  playing  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me." 
REBECCA,  wound  picturesquely  in  the  flag,  starts 
stepping  to  the  distant  sound.  EMMA  JANE 
ungracefully  copies  her.  COBB  joins  them,  and, 
with  rising  impulse,  MRS.  PERKINS  joins  too, 
so  that  when  the  music  grows  loud  they  are  all 
dancing,  but  MIRANDA,  a  bit  of  lively  country 
dance.  MIRANDA  only  mildly  disapproves,  but 
gradually  loosens  up  and  dances  in  the  corner 
by  herself.  After  ABIJAH  comes  down,  does 
his  solo  and  back  to  place) 

COBB.  Balance  to  your  partners!  (Business.) 
Swing  your  partners !  (Business.)  Right  hand 
across!  (Business  once  round.)  Left  hand  across! 
(Business  back  to  place.  MRS.  PERKINS,  who  is  up 
stage,  does  solo  dance,  coming  down  c.  and  back  to 
place,  coming  down  again;  dances  with  COBB.)  All 
hands  around !  (Business.  ALL  join  hands  around 
MRS.  PERKINS  once  around  and  back  again  to  place. 
ALL  break,  laughing  and  pointing  to  MIRANDA,  ivho 
is  dancing  alone  down  R.  During  dance  JANE  dances 
alone  down  L.  At  close  of  dance  REBECCA  runs  to 
COBB,  takes  one  hand,  EMMA  JANE  the  other.  As 
the  THREE  exeunt  out  of  back  doors)  You'll  hev  to 
be  New  Hampshire,  Emma  Jane,  for  that's  allers 
right  'longside  o'  Maine.  Come  along,  girls.  See 
Uncle  Sam's  fur  as  the  turn.  (COBB,  REBECCA  and 
EMMA  JANE  turn  R.  and  disappear,  chattering  like 
magpies.) 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  ^ARM  79 

ABIJAH.  (In  some  sort  of  patriotic  sash,  soldier's 
cap,  epaulettes  of  what  not;  going  up  to  MRS.  PER- 
KINS with  considerable  manner)  The  raisin's  doin' 
a  lot  for  some  of  us,  Mis'  Perkins. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Indifferent  and  somewhat  snub- 
bily)  Is  it? 

ABIJAH.  (Complacently,  feet  wide  apart)  Bring- 
in'  out  powers  that  might  'a'  lain  dormount  for 
years ! 

MRS.  PERKINS.   Humph!  Yourn,  I  s'pose? 

ABIJAH.  Mine,  an'  Emma  Jane's.  We're  bein* 
forced  to  the  front! 

MIRANDA.  (Primly  amused)  What  becomes  o' 
Squire  Bean's  work  while  you're  forced  to  the  front, 
prinkin'  an'  fifin'  an'  drummin'? 

ABIJAH.  The  Squire's  man  enough  to  see  that 
my  dooty  to  my  country's  jest's  important  as  my 
dooty  to  his  vyoodpile. 

JANE.   (Smiling)   I'm  glad  he's  so  obliging. 

MIRANDA.  Don't  git  your  head  turned  round  so 
fur  you  can't  see  straight,  Bijah !  Remember  you're 
a  chore  boy. 

ABIJAH.  That's  jest  what  I  ain't  goin'  to  remem- 
ber for  a  spell,  Miss  Sawyer !  When  I  hev  this  uni- 
form on  I'm  Cap'n  of  the  Fife  'n'  Drum  Corps  from 
the  sole  o'  my  head  to  the  hair  o'  my  feet!  Atten- 
tion! S'loot!  Left  face!  S'loot!  Right  about  face! 
Forward!  March!  (Swaggers  off,  whistling  "The 
Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me,"  while  FIFE  and  DRUM 
corps  play  off  stage.  MR.  PERKINS,  looking  after 
ABIJAH,  crosses  over  and  sits  L.  of  table.) 

OMNES.    My  goodness! 

JANE.  (Goes  to  table  R.  and  takes  apples  from  bas- 
ket; starts  to  peel  in  pan)  'Bijah's  real  ambitious, 
and  I'm  glad  they've  given  him  a  part.  I  hope  Mrs. 
Smellie  didn't  mind  that  Minnie  wasn't  chosen  for 
the  State  o'  Maine. 


8o         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACT  in 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Minnie'd  set  her  heart  on  bein' 
Texas.  I  don't  know  why,  'though  it's  the  biggest 
State  in  the  Union. 

MIRANDA.  (Gets  broom)  When  all  the  parts  are 
given  out  'n'  the  flag's  raised  there  won't  be  one  fam- 
ily in  this  village  on  speakin'  terms  with  another. 
(Gets  broom  and  sweeps,  c.) 

JANE.  Oh,  I  don't  know.  The  Minister's  wife's 
real  tackful  in  managin'  things. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  She  may  be  tackful,  but  she  ain't 
economical.  Perkins  an'  me  drive  by  there  some- 
times evenin's  an'  there's  allus  a  lamp  burnin'  full 
blaze  in  the  parlor. 

MIRANDA.   I  want  to  sweep  under  that  stool. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Excuse  me.  An'  I  can  tell  by  the 
looks  they  jest  live  all  over  that  new  fore  room  car- 
pet— which  is  the  property  of  the  parish,  too! 
(Pause.  Moves  to  other  side  of  table  and  sits  on 
stool.  Then  working  up  to  a  piece  of  news  she  is 
holding)  I'm  jest  waitin'  to  see  if  she'll  give  Clara 
Belle  Simpson  a  part  in  the  flag-raisin'. 

MIRANDA.  They  might  ask  her  to  be  Kentucky 
or  California  or  one  o'  them  lawless  States  that's 
chock  full  o'  folks  like  the  Simpsons. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Perkins  says  she's  so  hombly  he 
should  think  it'd  make  her  back  ache  to  carry  her 
head  round. 

MIRANDA.  I  want  to  sweep  under  that  one,  too — 
if  you  don't  mind? 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Goes  to  R.  of  table — pause)  Ex- 
cuse me,  but  I  guess  long  before  the  flag's  raised  the 
Simpsons  '11  be  all  out  o'  Riverboro.  They're  likely 
to  be  asked  any  minute  to  leave.  (Going  right  on, 
paying  no  attention  to  JANE'S  movements)  Do  you 
know,  sence  Adam  Ladd  has  given  the  coral  chain  to 
Rebecca  an'  the  locket  to  Emma  Jane,  Mis'  Smellie 
an'  Mis'  Robinson's  jest  tryin'  their  best  to  put  their 
girls  forward. 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  81 

MIRANDA.  You  don't  have  to  put  Minnie  Smellie 
forward.  She's  right  there  in  the  front  row  before 
you  can  git  behind  to  boost  her. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  That's  so.  She  never  looks  at 
Adam  Ladd  but  I  can  see  hunger  for  jewelry  fairly 
leapin'  out  of  her  eyes.  Does  beat  all  the  way  he 
singles  out  Rebecca  an'  Emma  Jane.  Some  time  he'll 
forget  one  of* 'em  an'  give  to  the  other.  Though  he 
may  not  be  the  marryin'  kind.  There's  some  men 
would  marry  once  a  year  if  their  wives  would  die 
fast  enough — an'  there's  men  that  seems  to  want  to 
live  alone.  But  if  Ladd  was  a  Mormon  he  could  have 
every  woman  in  Riverboro  that's  a  suitable  age,  and 
a  double-barrel  shotgun  couldn't  make  one  of  'era 
own  up  to  bein'  onsuitable. 

MIRANDA.  Tain't  likely  he'll  be  ketched  by  any 
of  'em. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  I  dare  say  'twon't  be  more'n  four 
or  five  years — mebbe  less — before  I  shall  have  to 
part  with  my  Emma  Jane. 

MIRANDA.  (Tartly)  You  may  keep  her  forever 
for  aught  you  know.  QANE  exits  quietly  with  dish 
of  apples  L.2.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  Girls  like  Emma  Jane,  inclined  to 
housework  an'  none  too  ready  with  their  tongues, 
always  marry  awful  young.  Adam  Ladd  seems  to 
think  she's  quite  remarkable.  (A  pause.  MIRANDA 
straightens  up  and  stares  at  MRS.  PERKINS,  who 
goes  right  on  sewing  and  never  looking  up,  her  back 
turned  to  L.2 .) 

MIRANDA.  (Pointing  as  she  picks  up  broom)  I 
put  water  in  my  beans  last  time  I  was  in  the  kitchen 
— you  don't  seem  to  be  anxious  'bout  yourn !  (Sweeps 
and  exits  L.2.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  I  shut  my  dampers  up  an'  fixed 
everything  so  I  wouldn't  hev  to  think  o'  beans  or 
brown  bread  till  noontime — for  I've  made  up  my 


82          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACT  in 

mind  to  git  this  petticoat  finished.  (Enter  LADD. 
She  talks  and  talks,  threads  her  needle,  bites  off  cot- 
ton and  sews  and  talks — all  alone — oblivions)  Chil- 
dren's underclothes  are  stared  at  so  when  they're 
gettin'  up  an'  down  from  the  top  of  a  stage — an'  the 
whole  creation  lookin'  on — that  you  can't  jest  trim 
the  parts  that's  goin'  to  show — 'cause  you  can't  tell 
for  certain,  when  they're  bein'  bounced  up  an'  down 
like  balls,  what  ain't  goin'  to  show. 

LADD.  (Overhearing  part  of  above  speech,  lifting 
his  hat.  Leaning  over  MRS.  PERKINS'  shoulder, 
speaking  in  her  ear,  backing  to  L.C.J  Good  morning ! 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Rises,  flustered)  Why,  Mr. 
Ladd !  How  do  you  do !  (Going  to  L.C.  ;  shakes 
MR.  LADD'S  hand.) 

LADD.    Are  you  keeping  house  for  the  Sawyers? 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (After  looking  around  and  dis- 
covering that  she  has  been  alone)  Well,  I  didn't  sus- 
picion I  was  till  this  minute.  Won't  you  sit  down? 
(He  sits  R.  by  table.  MRS.  PERKINS  brings  soap  box 
•from  up  c.  up  near  him.  As  she  sits,  continues)  I'd 
tell  you  to  go  in  the  house,  but  Mirandy  can't  bear 
men  folks  under  foot  in  the  kitchen. 

LADD.  I  make  most  of  my  calls  out  here.  There's 
no  place  that's  as  cosy  as  a  barn. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Chatty  and  voluble  at  once) 
That's  what  Perkins  says  when  he  sets  in  his  teeter- 
in'  back  'n'  forth  in  his  chair,  puffin'  at  his  pipe,  till 
I  tell  him  folks  '11  say  I  don't  allow  him  to  smoke 
indoor.  And  Watson  said  once,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
his  barn  to  set  in,  he  couldn't  never  have  lived  in 
holy  matrimony  with  his  last  wife,  but  one 

LADD.  (Laughing)  I'm  not  surprised.  I  think  I 
knew  that  particular  wife  when  I  was  a  boy.  (Com- 
ing to  the  point  of  his  call)  I  suppose  Rebecca's 
off  somewhere  with  your  little  girl — your  little  Mary 
Ann? 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  83 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Blankly)  My  Mary  Ann? 
(Rises.) 

LADD.  (Embarrassed)  I  should  say  Abby  Ann! 
(Rises.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Icily)  Do  you  mean  Emma 
Jane? 

LADDY.  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  must  have  been 
thinking  of  the  hotel-keeper's  little  girl,  where  I 
stopped  last  night  in  Temperance.  (Goes  to  L.c.j 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (Snooping)  There  on  business 
'bout  the  railroad,  I  s'pose? 

LADD.   Yes. 

MRS.  PERKINS.  (In  a  lower  voice)  It'll  be  a  god- 
send if  it  should  be  through  the  Randall  farm,  for 
it's  mortgaged  up  to  the  hilt. 

LADD.  You  never  can  tell.  Remember  me  to  the 
aunts,  please,  and  say  that  I'll  drop  in  on  my  way 
back.  I'm  sorry  Rebecca  isn't  here.  I  must  introduce 
her  as  the  State  of  Maine  Girl  at  the  Town  Hall,  and 
I  wanted  to  talk  it  over.  And  don't  forget  to  give 
my  best  regards  to  your  little  Sarah  Maude.  Good 
day !  (Lifts  hat  and  exits  c.  to  R.  Enter  MIRANDA  L.2 
with  broom.) 

MRS.  PERKINS.  He  is  the  most  forgetful  man  I 
ever  saw.  Adam  Ladd  was  just  here  talking  about 
my  Emma  Jane.  As  I've  got  to  go  to  the  village 

myself,  I  might's  well  go  'long  with  him (Exits 

c.  to  R.  As  she  is  off  she  is  heard  saying)  Don't 
walk  so  fast,  Mr.  Ladd.  I'll  go  a  piece  with  you. 

(REBECCA  enters  c.  from  L.  with  the  SIMPSON  baby 
in  a  clothes  basket  on  wheels.) 

MIRANDA.  (To  REBECCA,)  What  on  earth  hev  you 
got  there? 

REBECCA.  (Beaming)  The  Simpson  baby!  I've 
borrowed  her — while  her  mother  goes  to  the  doc- 


84          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACT  in 

tor's.  Come  and  look  at  her.  She's  the  sweetest 
thing !  She  takes  after  her  father. 

MIRANDA.  She  couldn't  take  after  her  father,  for 
he'd  take  anything  there  was  long  before  she  got 
there. 

REBECCA.  Oh,  no,  he's  turning  over  a  new  leaf. 

MIRANDA.  Only  to  see  what's  on  the  under  side, 
you  can  depend  on  that.  And  I  won't  have  his  young 
one  in  my  barn. 

REBECCA.  She's  laughing (Coaxingly)  She 

can't  do  any  harm  just  staying  here  till  her  mother 
comes  for  her. 

MIRANDA.  She's  one  more  Simpson,  and  that's 
harm  enough. 

REBECCA.  They  are  pretty  poor — but  there's  hardly 
any  pleasure  as  cheap  as  more  babies  where  there's 
ever  been  any. 

MIRANDA.  Cheap! 

REBECCA.  Trundle  beds  never  wear  out  and  there's 
always  some  clothes  left  from  the  old  baby  to  begin 
the  new  one  on. 

MIRANDA.   You  are  the  beatenest  young  one ! 

REBECCA.  Come  and  look  at  her.  She's  the  fat, 
gurgly  kind. 

MIRANDA.  (Crosses  reluctantly  to  the  basket; 
looks  down  at  the  baby)  She'll  grow  up  homely 
enough.  Good-looking  babies  always  does. 

REBECCA.  Look  at  her  little  pink  toes.  (Pulling 
BABY'S  toes)  This  little  pig  went  to  the  market. 
This  little  pig  stayed  at  home.  (Laughs)  Look  at 
her  laugh.  See  the  kissing  places  in  her  neck.  Put 
your  hand  down  by  hers.  She'll  curl  right  round  your 
finger  like  a  morning  glory.  (MIRANDA  hesitates, 
embarrassed,  then  puts  her  hand  in  the  basket. 
Pause.)  There,  I  knew  you  could  make  her  like 
you  if  you  tried. 

MIRANDA.   Koochy!   Koochy! 

REBECCA.  Can't  I  keep  her  over  Sunday  ? 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  85 

MIRANDA.  No,  you  can't.  But  she  does  behave 
better  than  most  babies.  I'll  say  that  for  her. 

REBECCA.  I'd  show  you  how  to  pin  on  her  red 
flannel  band  with  safety  pins — and  brush  her  hair 
against  the  grain  to  make  it  curl. 

MIRANDA.  (Picking  up  the  pan  of  apples  she 
peeled  at  the  beginning  of  the  Act)  You  can  keep 
her  through  your  play  time  and  not  a  minute  longer. 
(Starts  for  L.2.) 

REBECCA.  And  oh,  Aunt  Miranda 

MIRANDA.    Well,  what  is  it?    (MIRANDA  turns.) 

REBECCA.  Won't  you  please  get  married  so  there'll 
be  a  baby  in  the  Brick  House  once  in  a  while? 

MIRANDA.  Married !  I  should  think  you  was 
crazy!  (Exits  L.2.) 

CLARA  BELLE.  (Enters  c.  from  L.  She  is  over- 
come with  heart-breaking  childish  emotion)  Oh,  Re- 
becca! 

REBECCA.  What's  the  matter,  Clara  Belle  ? 

CLARA  BELLE.  We've  got  to  go  away  from  River- 
boro  right  away. 

REBECCA.   Before  the  Flag  Raising? 

CLARA  BELLE.  Deacon  Robinson's  warned  us  out 
of  the  house.  Everybody's  down  on  us  't  seems, 
though !  They  won't  give  Mother  any  more  washing 
and  they  won't  have  her  in  their  houses  to  clean. 

REBECCA.  And  she  so  nice  and  kind !  (They  both 
sit  on  floor.) 

CLARA  BELLE.  I  don't  know  exactly — but  Deacon 
Robinson  told  Mother  that  up  country  they  mightin 
take  notice,  but  here  in  Riverboro  people  were  dread- 
ful stiff  and  proud  and  they  liked  women  to  have 
wedding  rings. 

REBECCA.  Hasn't  your  mother  got  a  wedding 
ring? 

CLARA  BELLE.   No. 

REBECCA.    Why,  I  thought  all  married  ladies  had 


86          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACT  in 

to  have  them — just  as  they  do  sofas  and  kitchen 
stoves. 

CLARA  BELLE.  Mother  hasn't  got  any  jewelry,  not 
even  a  breast-pin. 

REBECCA.  Well,  your  father's  been  so  poor,  per- 
haps he  couldn't  afford  breast-pins — but  I  should 
have  thought  he'd  have  given  your  mother  a  wedding 
ring. 

CLARA  BELLE.  Father  didn't  have  time  for  a  regu- 
lar wedding  in  church  like  they  do  in  cities.  You 
see,  the  first  mother — mine — she  died.  Then  after  a 
while  this  mother  came  to  housekeep,  and  bye  and 
bye,  when  we  moved,  she  was  Mrs.  Simpson — and 
the  baby  is  hers. 

REBECCA.  Do  wedding  rings  cost  a  great  deal? 

CLARA  BELL.   I  s'pose  they  do. 

REBECCA.  If  they  were  cheap  we  might  buy  one. 
I've  got  seventy-five  cents  saved  up.  How  much  have 
you? 

CLARA  BELLE.  Not  a  cent.  And  if  I  did,  we'd 
have  to  buy  it  secret,  for  I  wouldn't  make  Father 
angry  or  shame  his  pride. 

REBECCA.  Well,  we  must  just  think  and  think  how 
to  get  one.  Cover  your  eyes  and  think  hard.  (The 
tzvo  girls  cover  their  eyes  and  think.  LADD  appears 
at  door  c.  from  R.J 

LADD.    May  I  come  in? 

REBECCA.   No — we're  thinking. 

LADD.  (Coming  doivn  R.)  Oh,  I  see — a  prayer 
meeting. 

CLARA  BELLE.    Finished! 

REBECCA.  Have  you  ? 

CLARA  BELLE.    Hm-hm!    (Both  uncover  eyes.) 

REBECCA.    Mr.  Aladdin! 

LADD.  (To  REBECCA)  How  do  you  do?  (To 
CLARA  BELLE)  And  you?  I  hope  the  banquet  lamp 
doesn't  smoke. 

CLARA  BELLE.    Oh,  no!    Father  swapped  it  long 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  87 

ago.   I  must  be  going.   I  guess  it's  most  dinner  time. 

LADD.    No — only  half  past  ten. 

CLARA  BELLE.  (Edging  back  to  door  c.)  I  mean 
breakfast  time.  Father  told  me  to  be  home  to  supper. 
(Exit  CLARA  BELLE  c.  to  L.J 

REBECCA.  (To  LADD)  I'm  so  glad  you've  come, 
for  I'm  in  an  awful  trouble. 

LADD.    Really — what  is  it? 

REBECCA.  I  ought  to  keep  it  to  myself,  but  per- 
haps I  might  tell  you  a  tiny  mite. 

LADD.  Well,  if  you  think  you  could?  (REBECCA 
points  to  seat.  LADD  bows  and  motions  REBECCA  to 
soap  box.  They  sit.) 

REBECCA.  When  you  were  here  last  time  you  said 
you'd  make  up  your  mind  what  you  were  going  to 
give  me  for  Christmas. 

LADD.    I  remember. 

REBECCA.  Then,  dear  Mr.  Aladdin,  would  you  buy 
me  something  that  I  need  and  buy  it  now? 

LADD.  That  depends.  What  is  it  you  need  ? 

REBECCA.   A  wedding  ring — dreadfully. 

LADD.   A  wedding  ring? 

REBECCA.  But  it's  a  sacred  secret. 

LADD.  And  I  thought  it  was  perfectly  understood 
between  us  that,  if  you  can  ever  contrive  to  grow 
up  and  I'm  willing  to  wait,  I'm  to  ride  up  to  the 
Brick  House  on  my  snow-white 

REBECCA.    Coal-black. 

LADD.  Coal-black  charger,  put  a  golden  circle  on 
your  lily-white  finger,  draw  you  up  behind  me  on 
my  pillion 

REBECCA.  And  Emma  Jane,  too. 

LADD.  I  think  I  didn't  mention  Emma  Jane.  Three 
on  one  pillion  is  very  uncomfortable.  I  think  Emma 
Jane  leaps  on  the  back  of  a  prancing  chestnut. 

REBECCA.  Emma  Jane  never  leaps.  And  she'd  be 
afraid  of  a  prancing  chestnut. 

LADD.    Then  she'll  have  a  gentfer  cream-colored 


88          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACT  in 

pony — and  we'll  all  ride  off  to  my  castle  in  the  for- 
est. Now,  without  any  explanation,  you  tell  me  you 
need  a  wedding  ring,  which  shows  very  plainly  that 
you're  planning  to  run  off  with  somebody  else. 

REBECCA.   The  ring  isn't  for  me. 

LADD.    No? 

REBECCA.  No.  Oh,  you  know  very  well  Emma 
Jane  and  I  can't  be  married  till  we're  through  Green- 
leaf's  Arithmetic.  The  ring  is  for  a  friend. 

LADD.  Why  doesn't  the  groom  give  it  to  the  lady 
himself? 

REBECCA.  I  don't  know;  he  isn't  mean.  I  guess 
he's  kind  of  thoughtless.  That's  her  baby  asleep  in 
the  basket. 

LADD.  ( Crosses  to  basket — looks  at  baby.  Coming 
down  to  REBECCAJ  Why,  that's  the  Simpson's  baby, 
isn't  it  ? 

REBECCA.  Yes — and  if  they  lived  in  one  of  your 
houses,  would  you  turn  them  out — just  because  Mrs. 
Simpson  didn't  wear  jewelry? 

LADD.   Deacon  Robinson  is — turning  them  out? 

REBECCA.  Yes — just  because  Mrs.  Simpson  has 
•jo  wedding  ring  like  all  the  rest. 

LADD.  Who  told  you  that  ? 

REBECCA.  Clara  Belle.  It  seems  too  foolish  to  be 
true.  But  she  heard  him  say  so  to  her  mother. 

LADD.  I  see.   (Crosses  to  L.C.  j 

REBECCA.  And  if  he's  as  mean  as  that,  we'd  like 
to  give  her  one — and  then  she'd  be  happier  and  have 
more  work. 

LADD.  Bless  your  heart,  you  little  darling!  !  ! 
(Thinks  over  situation.  REBECCA  is  supreme.) 
You're  great  friends  with  Mr.  Simpson,  aren't  you? 

REBECCA.  Yes. 

LADD.  Well,  you  know  it  wouldn't  make  Mrs. 
Simpson  half  so  happy  to  have  you  give  her  the 
ring  as  it  would  if  Mr.  Simpson  did  it. 

REBECCA.   But  he  hasn't  got  any  ring. 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  89 

LADD.  We'll  find  him  one — and  the  next  time  you 
see  him  alone— don't  mention  me — give  him  the  ring, 
tell  him  to  put  it  on  her  finger  properly,  and  see  what 
happens. 

REBECCA.  We  haven't  any  ring,  unless  you  buy 
us  one. 

LADD.  Maybe  I  can  do  better.  Would  you  like  to 
see  a  picture  of  my  mother  ?  (Takes  miniature  from, 
his  pocket)  She  died  when  I  was  a  child.  There  was 
no  one  to  stand  between  her  and  hardship.  She  died 
for  lack  of  cherishing,  and  I  can  never  forget  it. 

REBECCA.  (Looking  long  at  miniature)  I  wish  she 
could  see  you  now  all  grown  up. 

LADD.  Now,  the  reason  I  snowed  you  this  is  be- 
cause of  something  that  always  lies  just  underneath 
it — my  mother's  wedding  ring. 

REBECCA.  Oh,  Mr.  Aladdin — you  wouldn't  give 
away  such  a  precious  thing! 

LADD.  The  only  thing  that  is  precious  enough  to 
match  it  is  the  use  you're  going  to  make  of  it. 

REBECCA.  Hadn't  you  better  give  it  to  him,  Mr. 
Aladdin? 

LADD.  No.  A  man's  hand  would  never  give  it  in 
a  way  to  bring  happiness.  It  needs  a  smaller  one 
with  a  light  touch — a  child's  hand — and  yours  was 
made  for  it,  Rebecca.  (Gives  REBECCA  the  ring) 
There's  another  thing  that  may  help.  (Enter  SIMP- 
SOIN  c.  from  L.,  pauses  in  doorway,  unseen.)  I  was 

faing  to  do  it,  but  I  like  your  way  best.    Tell  Mr. 
impson  he's  going  to  have  a  good  position  at  Daly's 
farm. 

SIMPSON.  (Who  has  overheard)  Je-roo-salem 
crickets!  (Comes  down  to  LADDJ  Is  that  the  truth? 
You  ain't  foolin'? 

REBECCA.   Mr.  Ladd  never  fools  anybody. 
LADD.   You  are  to  begin  on  Monday  next — break 
and  sell  and  swap  horses  to  your  heart's  content. 


go         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIII 

SIMPSON.  Well,  I  swan !  (Is  speechless;  pushes 
his  hat  back;  drives  his  hands  into  his  pockets.) 

LADD.  (To  REBECCA,)  I'll  go  in  now  and  have 
some  elderberry  wine  and  a  visit  with  the  aunts. 
(Starts  for  L.2.) 

SIMPSON.   Thank  you,  Squire,  thank  you. 

LADD.  Thank  her!  ( Exits  L.2.) 

SIMPSON.  (To  REBECCAJ  I'm  blessed  if  I  don't 
think  my  gosh-darned  luck's  turned  at  last — jest's  I 
was  about  to  bust  up  the  whole  gold-ding  combina- 
tion. 

REBECCA.  (Aggrieved)  I  don't  think  you're  very 
polite.  That's  twice  you've  sworn  to  me.  You  said 
"gosh  darned,"  and  "gol  ding." 

SIMPSON.  I'm  excited.  I'm  so  excited  I  most 
forgot  what  I  come  for.  (Draws  the  bead  chain  from 
his  pocket)  Here  is  a  present  for  you.  I've  been 
makin'  it  'bout  ever  since  that  day  you  gave  me  thun- 
der and  lightnin'  for  fishin'  your  hat  out  of  the 
brook.  (Gives  REBECCA  the  chain)  Kind  of  a  peace- 
offerin' — like  it? 

REBECCA.   I  think  it's  simple e  beautiful ! 

SIMPSON.  And  if  there's  anything  else  I  can  do 
for  you  any  time,  you  jest  speak  up. 

REBECCA.  There  is  something  you  can  do  for  me 
— this  instant  minute. 

SIMPSON.  What  is  it?  Oh,  you  don't  want  me  to 
drag  the  baby  home  'cross  lots  in  the  clothes-basket, 
do  ye? 

REBECCA.  No — but  I  don't  know  why  you  shouldn't. 
Mrs.  Simpson  drags  it  all  the  time,  and  it's  half  your 
baby. 

SIMPSON.   One  for  Abner — right  in  the  belt! 

REBECCA.  And  when  you  married  Mrs.  Simpson, 
why  didn't  you  give  her  a  wedding  ring? 

SIMPSON.    (After  a  pause)    What ! 

REBECCA.    That's  the  time  to  do  it — right  at  the 


ACT  in       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  'gt 

very  first.  Then  it's  all  over  and  done  with — for 
they're  solid  gold  and  last  forever. 

SIMPSON.   They  last  forever,  you  bet! 

REBECCA.  And  though  you  may  not  know  it,  she 
needs  one  very  dreadfully.  ( SIMPSON  stares  at  RE- 
BECCA a  moment.  REBECCA  indignantly)  She'll  never 
get  on  with  the  Riverboro  ladies  till  she  has  one. 

SIMPSON.   How  do  you  know,  Miss 

REBECCA.  You  know  how  Mrs.  Smellie's  looked 
up  to  on  account  of  her  diamond  eardrops. 

SIMPSON.  Well,  I  swan !  (WARN  Curtain.) 

REBECCA.  And  so,  will  you  please  give  her  this 
one?  (Offers  SIMPSON  the  ring.  Pause.)  Won't 
you  please  give  it  to  Mrs.  Simpson?  (SIMPSON  takes 
the  ring;  looks  at  it,  very  much  amused.)  It's  such 
a  little  thing  to  ask. 

SIMPSON.  Such  a  little  thing.  That's  what  she 
allers  says ! 

REBECCA.  Has  she  asked  you  for  one?  (MRS. 
SIMPSON  enters  c.  from  L.j  And  you  didn't  give  it 
to  her?  Then  I  s'pose  you're  going  to  say  no  to  me? 

SIMPSON.  (Suddenly)  I  ain't  goin'  to  say  no! 
I'm  goin'  to  give  it  to  her,  so  help  me.  You  jest  watch 
an'  see  me  do  it,  'fore  I  hev  a  chance  to  back  out! 
(MRS.  SIMPSON  is  crossing  to  baby  carriage.)  Look 

a  here,  Ellen (Shows  ring.  MRS.  SIMPSON 

looks  at  it;  looks  at  SIMPSON.,)  What  are  you  star- 
ing at  ?  It's  a  weddin'  ring,  and  it's  for  you ! 

MRS.  SIMPSON.    For — me? 

SIMPSON.  That's  what  I  said  and  what  I'll  stick 
to.  You'll  set  down  to  supper  tonight  with  it  on  right 
and  proper. 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  Oh,  Abner (LADD  appears 

L.2;  overhears.) 

REBECCA.  (Half  to  herself)  Oh,  she  must  have 
wanted  it  awfully! 

SIMPSON.  I  guess  she  wanted  it  worse  than  I  sus- 
picioned.  There's  no  accountin'  for  women  folks. 


92         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACT  in 

(LADD  goes  to  SIMPSON  and  shakes  hands.)  Come 
along,  Ellen — we'll  go  home,  an'  we'll  go  by  way  of 
the  parsonage.  (They  cross  to  BABY.,) 

REBECCA.    (Turns;  sees  LADD)   Oh,  Mr.  Aladdin, 
didn't  it  turn  out  beautifully? 

CURTAIN 


ACT  IV 

TIME  :   Three  years  later. 

REBECCA'S  home-coming  after  graduation  at 
Wareham. 

SCENE  :  The  front  of  the  Brick  House,  showing  two 
stories  with  eight  ttrindows,  old  Colonial  front 
door  and  four  rough-hewn  granite  steps. 

It  is  set  well  down  stage,  leaving  just  enough 
garden  space  in  front  for  acting  purposes. 

Two  windows — second  story  R. — are  practical 
and  all  are  furnished  with  green  blinds  (shut- 
ters). 

The  front  door,  when  open,  reveals  the  main 
hall — practical — from  end  to  end,  giving  upon 
another  door  at  the  back,  open  upon  the  river 
landscape. 

The  Colonial  staircase,  practical,  is  built  on 
L.  side  of  hall,  and  the  old  clock  seen  in  Act  I 
rests  against  it. 

A  great  maple  tree  R.,  set  midway  between 
house  and  curtain  line,  loses  itself  in  the  flies, 
that  supports  garden  seat,  built  so  long  ago  that 
the  opening  underneath  is  filled  with  leafy 
growth  that  climbs  in  some  places  over  the  edge 
of  the  seat  and  clings  to  the  trunk.  The  whole 
has  a  mask  in  one  of  the  bushes,  leaving  a  prac- 
tical exit  around  the  house  R. 

Trees  and  bushes  mask  in  the  L.  side,  but 

leave  a  wide  entrance  around  the  house  L.   The 

rest  is  greensward  with  no  path.   A  patchwork 

cushion  is  on  the  steps,  and  a  comfortable  high- 

93 


94         REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIV 

backed  wooden  chair,  with  wide  flat  arms,  is 
placed  L.  and  a  little  below  the  steps.  A  smaller 
Shaker  chair  near  it. 

It   is    TWILIGHT— work   to   strong,   full- 
flooded  moonlight. 

DISCOVERED:  MIRANDA  SAWYER,  grown  pale,  feeble 
and  white-haired,  sitting  in  the  high-backed 
chair.  Her  knitting  lies  idly  in  her  thin  hands. 
A  little  wooden  stool  is  under  her  feet.  She  is 
lying  back  wearily — petty  cares  and  anxieties 
marking  the  expression  of  her  face. 

Brief  Picture: 

JANE  SAWYER.   She  is  older  and  graver,  but 
sweeter  than  ever,  though  tired  and  anxious. 

JANE.  Are  you  gettin'  on  all  right  ? 

MIRANDA.  'Bout's  right's  I  shall  be  till  I  feel  bet- 
ter'n  I  do  now. 

JANE.  The  doctor  told  me  to  keep  you  in  the  air 
all  I  could. 

MIRANDA.  The  doctor's  got  more  customers  in 
the  graveyard  than  he  has  out.  Still,  I  ain't  goin'  to 
pay  seventy-five  cents  a  visit  for  his  advice  and  not 
take  it.  I  begin  to  think  Jeremiah's  broke  down  on 
the  way. 

JANE.  The  exercises  won't  be  over  till  most  five, 
and  it's  seven  miles'  drive  from  Wareham. 

MIRANDA.  It  does  seem  hard,  after  all  the  money 
we've  spent  on  Rebecca's  education,  that  we  shouldn't 
either  of  us  's  been  able  to  see  her  graduate. 

JANE.  It  don't  seem  possible  she's  goin'  on  seven- 
teen. (Going  about  here  and  there,  arranging  foot- 
stool, MIRANDA'S  shawl,  etc.)  I  hope  she'll  get  a 
chance  to  teach.  For  if  the  railroad  shouldn't  go 


ACT  iv       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  95 

Aurelia's  way,  she  won't  be  able  to  keep  a  roof  over 
her  childern's  heads. 

MIRANDA.  Another  roof  11  be  raised  up  for  her 
pretty  soon,  by  the  way  I  feel.  Set  down  an'  keep 
still,  will  you,  Jane?  There's  things  I  want  to  talk 
over.  I  ain't  goin'  to  hev  a  third  stroke  an'  be  found 
unprepared  in  business.  When  I'm  laid  away,  do 
you  want  to  take  Aurelia'n  the  children  down  here 
to  the  Brick  House  to  live?  Well,  do  you? 

JANE.  Oh,  I  would — but  I'd  always  thought  you 
wouldn't  like  such  a  big  family  on  the  premises. 

MIRANDA.  (Sits  up  straighter.  Weakly,  restlessly) 
I  don't  want  Rebecca  told  that  I've  wiled  her  the 
Brick  House.  I  want  to  take  my  time  'bout  dyin',  an' 
not  be  hurried  off  by  them  that's  goin'  to  profit  by  it. 

JANE.  Who  would,  Miranda?  (Takes  knitting 
from  MIRANDA'S  lap  and  goes  on  with  it.) 

MIRANDA.  (Sighing;  speaking  very  slowly)  I 
s'pose  she'll  use  the  front  stairs  as  common  as  the 
back — but  mebbe  when  I've  been  dead  a  few  years 
I  shan't  care  so  much. 

JANE.  (Speaking  solemnly)  I  dare  say  they  won't 
make  any  difference  between  the  front  stairs  an'  the 
back  in  Heaven,  Miranda. 

MIRANDA.  (Briskly)  Then  all  I  can  say  is,  I 
should  think  Heaven'd  be  considerable  more  like — 
the  other  place!  (Leans  back  wearily;  closes  her 
eyes.  JANE  looks  at  her  and  wipes  her  eyes  furtive- 
ly.) Rebecca'll  want  you  to  have  your  home  here's 
long's  you  live. 

JANE.  (Knitting)  There  ain't  an  ungrateful  bone 
in  Rebecca's  body. 

MIRANDA.  Anyway,  I've  wrote  it  down  that  way. 
I  wa'n't  goin'  to  hev  the  first  man  Rebecca  picks  up 
with  turnin'  you  outdoors. 

JANE.   She's  nothin'  but  a  child. 

MIRANDA.  I  know,  but  some  men  like  'em  young, 
'specially  if  they've  got  a  brick  house  in  good  repair. 


96*          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIV 

(Rises  and  goes  to  c.,  knitting)  Abijah  Flagg  is 
keepin'  company  with  Emma  Jones.  You  may  call 
her  a  child,  but  she's  got  a  weddin'  dress  in  her  eye, 
or  I  miss  my  guess. 

JANE.  Abijah's  raised  himself  up  well.  They  say 
over  to  the  Academy  he  can  talk  Latin  as  fast's  he 
can  English. 

MIRANDA.  (With  emphasis)  Well,  he'll  want  com- 
mand o'  two  languages  if  he's  goin'  to  live  in  the 
house  with  Mis'  Perkins! 

JANE.  He's  a  fine  debater,  an'  likely  to  be  in  Con- 
gress before  he's  dead. 

MIRANDA.  If  what  I  hear  'bout  Congress  is  true, 
they  ain't  none  too  partic'ler  who  they  take  in ! 

COBB.  (Enters  from  round  house  c.  from  R.  He 
is  a  little  older  but  still  rosy  and  hearty.  Heartily, 
tickled  all  over  with  the  news  he  has — as  he  enters) 
Here  ye  be!  I've  been  all  around  the  house  lookin' 
for  ye ! 

MIRANDA.  (Leaning  forward  anxiously,  her  hands 
trembling)  Ain't  you  fetched  Rebecca? 

COBB.  She's  comin'.  (Goes  c.  JANE  goes  R.c.J  I 
brought  Adam  Ladd  along — so  Deacon  Robinson 
took  the  girls  in  his  carryall !  (Looking  from  JANE 
to  MIRANDA,  smiling  and  brimful  of  news.  Pause.) 

MIRANDA.  (Eager  for  news)  Was  it  a  good  grad- 
uation ? 

COBB.  (Unctiously)  There  never  was  sech  an- 
other !  All  the  nations  of  the  airth  that  wasn't  there 
missed  suthin'  that  would  V  made  a  good  story  for 
their  grandchildren. 

JANE.    (Eagerly)   Much  of  a  crowd? 

COBB.  Crowd!  Mebbe  a  few  folks  stayed  away 
to  keep  store,  'tend  babies  an'  run  the  Gover'ment, 
but  the  rest  o'  the  world  was  right  on  hand  in  Ware- 
ham (JANE  is  now  on  tiptoe  with  eagerness.) 

MIRANDA.  (Trying  to  be  calm  and  cool)  Rebecca 
appeared  well,  did  she? 


ACT  rv       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  97 

COBB.  Nobody  else  came  within  forty  rows  o' 
appletrees  o'  her. 

JANE.  Did  the  class  ride  to  the  Church  in  the  hay 
cart,  same's  she  planned? 

COBB.  Yes,  with  Rebeccy  up  front,  holdin'  the  rib- 
bons  

MIRANDA.  (Nervously)  Didn't  she  look  kind  o' 
bold? 

COBB.  (With  many  gestures)  Land  o'  Liberty! 
When  she  stood  up  goin'  down  the  hill,  straight  as  a 
young  poplar,  with  her  white  dress  sweepin'  out 
behind  an'  a  little  daisy  wreath  on  her  head,  why, 
the  folks  along  the  road  clapped  so  you  couldn't  hear 
yourself  think. 

JANE.    (A  break  in  her  voice)   Oh,  Miranda ! 

MIRANDA.  How  about  the  essays?  Graduation 
ain't  all  flowery  hay  carts. 

COBB.  Well,  the  class  laid  down  the  law  on  most 
every  subject  under  the  sun — instructin'  the  Minis- 
ters an'  Governors,  an'  givin'  the  Lord  considerable 
advice  how  to  run  His  department. 

JANE.  I  hope  Rebecca's  essay  didn't  sound  that 
way. 

MIRANDA.   We'd  ought  to  know  how  it  sounded. 

COBB.  Yes,  but  them  things  go  better  in  a  church, 
packed  full  o'  swelterin'  relations. 

MIRANDA.  They  say  Rebecca's  got  a  good  carry- 
ing voice. 

COBB.  And  a  good  carrying  smile,  too.  One  that'll 
kill  at  a  hundred  yards  every  time  she  shoots  it  off. 

JANE.  Oh,  I  wish  we  could  have  been  there — 
though  hearing  you  is  most  as  good,  you  do  set  it 
out  so. 

MIRANDA.    Trust  Jeremiah  for  settin'  things  out. 

COBB.  (Chuckling)  I  tell  ye  one  thing  I  did  set 
out — that's  old  Mrs.  Deacon  Webb's  pew.  She  said 
I'd  wore  it  out  more  in  the  space  of  two  hours — 
carpet,  cushions  and  woodwork — than  she  hed  by 


98          REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIV 

settin'  in  it  forty  years There's  the  carryall! 

(VOICES  off  R.  All  listen,  COBB  and  JANE  look 
off*.) 

JANE.  Oh,  look  at  Rebecca!   (Goes  to  MIRANDA.) 

COBB.   I'm  looking  at  her. 

JANE.  (With  glad  feeling — to  MIRANDA)  An'  we 
did  it,  Mirandy ! — savin'  and  scrimpin'  an'  doin' 
without ! 

MIRANDA.  (With  ill-concealed  pride)  I  guess  we 
ain't  throwed  away  our  money. 

COBB.  (Calling  off)  Here  they  be  waitin'  for  ye. 
The  Poetess  and  Pride  of  Riverboro! 

(REBECCA  hurries  in  from  around  house,  c.  from  R.  ; 
goes  to  MIRANDA  ;  folds  her  in  her  arms;  kisses 
her.  MIRANDA,  impulsive  for  once,  has  forgot- 
ten her  condition;  has  tried  to  rise  but  sinks  back 
again;  quickly  covers  all  emotion  as  REBECCA 
comes  toward  her.  REBECCA  whirls  around  so 
as  to  get  to  JANE.  JANE  -whirls  to  COBB  and  they 
embrace.) 

REBECCA.    Oh,  Aunt  Miranda! — Oh,  Aunt  Jane! 

JANE.  Rebecca!  (REBECCA  wears  fine  white 
cheese-cloth  dress,  trimmed  zvith  lace  resembling  old- 
fashioned  tatting.  Simple,  flat-brimmed  hat  trimmed 
with  flowers.  Long  coral  chain.) 

COBB.   I'll  take  in  the  baggage.   (Exits  c.  to  R.) 

JANE.  (Beaming)  Jeremiah  says  you  did  your 
part  real  well !  I'll  go  and  unpack  a  few  things  for 
you,  Rebecca.  (Exits  into  house,  leaving  hall  door 
wide  open,  showing  hall  staircase  and  river  land- 
scape, the  latter  flooded  with  setting  SUNLIGHT.) 

REBECCA.  (Looking  at  MIRANDA}  Oh,  Aunt  Mir- 
anda! 

MIRANDA.  Don't  cry  over  me.  I  ain't  dead  yet. 
(As  JANE  starts  in.  To  REBECCA)  Sit  on  this 
cricket.  (REBECCA  places  cushion;  is  about  to  sit  on 


ACT  iv       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM  99 

the  cricket.  Moves  the  cricket  closer  to  MIRANDA,) 
An'  keep  your  white  skirts  off  the  ground. 

REBECCA.  (Before  she  sits)  Don't  you  think  it's 
a  pretty  dress,  Aunt  Miranda? 

MIRANDA.  It  looks  better'n  I  thought  it  would. 
Turn  round,  slow.  (REBECCA  turns  slowly.)  I  was 
dreadful  ashamed  to  have  you  graduate  in  cheese- 
cloth, but  you'll  hear  the  reason  some  day,  an'  know 
I  tried  to  make  it  up  to  you.  (A  quiver  in  her  voice.) 

REBECCA.  I  wasn't  ashamed  a  bit — and  Aunt 
Jane's  tatting  looks  just  like  lace.  (Sits,  carefully 
arranging  her  skirts.) 

MIRANDA.  (Wearily)  I  hope  you  won't  slight 
things  in  the  kitchen  mornin's  because  I  ain't  there. 
You'll  scald  the  coffee-pot  and  put  it  upside  down  on 
the  windersill,  won't  ye? 

REBECCA.   Yes — every  single  day. 

MIRANDA.  ( With  a  feeble  groan  and  closed  eyes) 
Oh,  dear,  it's  hard  for  me  to  be  layin'  there  in  the 
dinin'  room  chamber,  havin'  things  done  the  way  I 
don't  like. 

REBECCA.  (Impulsively  but  gently)  Don't  worry, 
dear  Aunt  Miranda.  Look  at  me,  big  and  strong  and 
young,  all  ready  to  show  what  I  can  do.  Oh,  let  me 
thank  you  just  once!  Love  you  right  out  plain,  and 
tell  you  how  good  you've  been  to  me,  and  how 
sorry  I  am  I've  been  a  trouble  and  expense!  (Buries 
head  in  MIRANDA'S  lap.) 

MIRANDA.  I  ain't  complainin'.  You  never  was  a 
great  eater.  I've  been  strict  with  you,  but  you  was 
awful  wild  and  strange  as  a  child. 

REBECCA.  (Smiling  tearfully)  I  know — but  I'm 
all  tame  now,  and  I'm  going  to  earn — oh,  such  a  lot 
of  money! 

MIRANDA.  (Quavering)  I'd  like  to  live  long 
enough  to  know  you'd  paid  off  that  mortgage. 

REBECCA.  (Merrily)  That  mortgage — I  can  just 
see  it,  sneaking  out  of  the  back  door  of  the  farm, 


ioo        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIV 

with  its  tail  between  its  legs.  Oh!  (Sighs.  Rises; 
goes  to  c.)  When  you're  seventeen  it's  good  just  to 
be  alive.  You  haven't  forgotten,  Aunt  Miranda. 

MIRANDA.  I  wa'n't  never  so  much  alive  as  you  be. 

REBECCA.  Oh,  I'm  thankful  I  was  born ! 

MIRANDA.  Now  your  job  is  to  make  other  folks 
thankful  you  was.  QANE  opens  one  of  the  practical 
windows  in  second  story.) 

COBB.  (Appears  beside  JANE,)  They've  moved 
you  out  of  the  ell,  Rebecca.  You're  in  the  main  part 
now. 

REBECCA.   Mine?   (READY  LIGHTS.) 

COBB.    Yes. 

REBECCA.  (Dazed  at  the  honor.  Rising,  looking 
happy,  COBB  leaning  over  her  shoulder)  Oh,  Aunt 
Miranda!  (Pause.  JANE  and  COBB  disappear.)  The 
east  room,  with  the  landscape  wall-paper !  How  could 
you  bear  to  let  me  sleep  in  it?  (Goes  to  MIRANDA.,) 

MIRANDA.  It  was  kind  of  hard,  but  we  thought 
you  was  old  enough  now  to  be  trusted  with  a  carpet 
and  curtains. 

REBECCA.  (Whimsically.  While  JANE  reappears 
at  door  with  COBB.  Sits)  Oh,  I  hope  I  shall  be  faith- 
ful to  it!  (COBB  comes  down  steps.  JANE  enters 
also.) 

MIRANDA.  I  ain't  one  to  flatter,  but  I  do  set  great 
store  by  you,  Rebecca.  (Kissing  hair,  then  slowly 
takes  hand,  kisses  it.) 

REBECCA.    Oh,  Aunt  Miranda! 

MIRANDA.   I  want  to  go  in  now. 

REBECCA.   Let  me  help  you. 

MIRANDA.  I  guess  you  ain't  stout  enough  to  be 
much  good. 

REBECCA.  I've  leaned  on  you  all  these  years,  now 
you  try  leaning  on  me. 

MIRANDA.  I  ain't  much  of  a  leaner.  Jane — Jere- 
miah, come  and  help  me.  (COBB  and  JANE  go  to  h& 
and  lift  her  up.) 


ACT  iv       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          101 

COBB.  You're  as  spry  as  a  two-year-old.  You'll 
be  dancing  the  Money  Musk  with  me  by  Christmas. 
(RED  LIGHTS  going  down.) 

MIRANDA.  Let  me  rest  my  legs  a  minute,  will  you  ? 
I  never  did  like  bein'  out  of  doors,  and  I  hate  it 
worse  than  ever  now  the  doctor  makes  me  stay  out. 
I  ain't  got  no  patience  with  your  new-fangled  no- 
tions. When  I'm  sick  I  want  to  lay  comfortable  on 
the  haircloth  sofa  and  hold  the  camphor  bottle  to  my 
nose.  (To  REBECCA,)  Don't  keep  your  graduation 
dress  on  too  long,  Rebecca.  The  dew'll  take  all  the 
dressin'  out  of  the  goods. 

REBECCA.  I  won't  keep  it  on  long,  Aunt  Miranda. 

MIRANDA.  That's  a  good  girl.  Good  night.  I'm  all 
beat  out.  Take  me  in,  Jane.  Take  me  in.  (Exeunt 
JANE  and  MIRANDA  into  house.  They  can  be  seen 
making  slow  progress  down  the  hall  and  disappearing 
back  of  staircase  down  R.) 

REBECCA.  (On  steps,  watches  them  out  of  sight, 
then  turns  impulsively  to  COBB,  her  buoyant  manner, 
kept  up  in  MIRANDA'S  presence,  giving  way  to  quick 
sympathy  and  sorrow)  Oh,  Uncle  Jerry !  She's  so 
pale  and  old  and  anxious — and  I'm  so  young  and 
happy !  It  seems  cruel ! 

COBB.  There,  there,  Becky !  She'll  be  better  soon. 
And  land,  what  a  comfort  you'll  be! 

(Enter  MR.  and  MRS.  SIMPSON,  CLARA  BELLE,  ABI- 
JAH  FLAGG,  EMMA  JANE,  ALICE  and  MINNIE 
from  R.I,  all  talking.) 

ABIJAH.  I  won  the  Latin  prize!  Hello,  every- 
body !  I  won  the  Latin  prize !  (Nobody  pays  any 
attenion  to  him,  and  he  draws  EMMA  JANE  aside  in 
the  direction  of  the  tree  seat)  Come  on  over  and  sit 
down,  Emma  Jane.  I  can't  get  a  word  in  edgeways. 

REBECCA.  (To  SIMPSON}  Did  you  come  over 
from  Acreville? 


IO2        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIV 

SIMPSON.   I  come  partly  on  business.   I  wanted  to 
sell  Daly's  big  bay,  and  I  thought  there'd  be  such  a 
big  crowd  at  Wareham  mebbe  I  could  make  a  trade. 
REBECCA.   And  did  you? 

SIMPSON.  You  bet !  I  slipped  out  o'  church  and 
swapped  horses  with  a  Portland  man  right  there. 
Got  a  tip-top  sorrel  and  fifty  dollars  to  boot !  (Turns 
to  COBB,  slaps  him  on  the  back  and  the  two  chat  about 
the  trade.) 

MRS.  SIMPSON.  Oh,  Rebecca,  your  piece  about  the 
little  harbor  of  childhood  was  the  best  of  all.  I  'most 
wanted  to  cry,  thinkin'  of  all  you  children  grown  up 
and  sailin'  out  of  it. 

CLARA  BELLE.  You  were  the  prettiest,  sweetest 
and  the  smartest  of  them  all !  (REBECCA  kisses  CLARA 
BELLE.  All  of  the  crowd  chat  together  in  dumb  show 
at  back.  The  SIMPSONS  exeunt  slowly  L.2.) 

ABIJAH.  (To  EMMA  JANEJ  I  want  to  go  home 
with  you,  but  I'm  afraid  your  mother  won't  ask 
me  in. 

EMMA  JANE.   She  won't.  I  know  she  won't. 
ABIJAH.   (With  implicit  belief  in  his  own  charms) 
I  can't  make  out  why  she  doesn't  like  me. 

EMMA  JANE.  Nor  I !  Without  it's  because  you 
were  born  in  the  Poor  House.  As  if  it  mattered ! 

ABIJAH.  (Grandly)  It's  better  to  begin  in  the 
Poor  House  than  end  there!  (ALICE  and  MINNIE 
exeunt  L.2.) 

EMMA  JANE.  Oh!  I  wish  I'd  thought  to  say  that 
to  Mother. 

ABIJAH.   Never  mind.   You  can  say  it  next  time. 
EMMA  JANE.    I  hope  she'll  like  you  better  when 
she  knows  you've  taken  the  Latin  prize. 

ABIJAH.  Seems  as  if  she  must.  You  see,  Emma 
Jane,  your  father  makes  a  good  living  at  his  trade, 
but  if  a  man  has  taken  a  Latin  prize,  he's  a  match 
for  the  highest. 

EMMA  JANE.    (With  pious  faith)    I  know  it!    I 


ACTIV       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          103 

don't  see  why  such  an  ellergant  scholar  as  you  didn't 
choose  Rebecca.  She's  so  smart  and  so  handsome! 

ABIJAH.  /  kno^v  .handsomer!  Rebecca  would 
never  have  any  chance  with  me!  I  like  her,  but  she's 
kind  o'  superior.  I  want  to  be  looked  up  to. 

EMMA  JANE.    (Doing  it)   No  wonder ! 

ABIJAH.  (Persuasively)  Don't  you  think  you 
can  get  your  mother  to  feel  different?  Tell  her  I've 
got  that  offer  of  ten  dollars  a  week,  and  they're 
sure  to  make  it  twelve  by  Christmas.  Could  you 
live  on  twelve  a  week,  Emma  Jane? 

EMMA  JANE.    (Fervently)  I  could  die  on  it. 

ABIJAH.  Then  say  you  will !  (His  arm  with  yel- 
low kid-gloved  hand  goes  round  her  waist.  Exeunt 

R.I.) 

REBECCA.  (Laughing)  Abijah  Flagg!  It  seems 
like  sailing  with  a  little  boy. 

COBB.  (Meaningly)  You  wouldn't  like  to  go  on 
sailin'  parties  with  menfolks,  though  they  was  mid- 
dle-aged and  stiddy,  would  ye? 

REBECCA.  (Unconscious)  I'm  happy  in  the  "little 
harbor,"  Uncle  Jerry! 

COBB.  /  think  there's  a  pilot  lookin'  round  for  a 
job,  eh? 

REBECCA.  (Confused)  Don't,  Uncle  Jerry,  don't, 
please. 

COBB.  My  little  fly-away  passenger  turned  out  to 
be  a  great  tall  girl,  chock  full  of  edj creation.  And 
you  won't  be  stealing  any  more  rides  or  coaxin'  to  sit 
alongside  of  your  Uncle  Jerry. 

REBECCA.  I'll  sit  up  alongside  of  you,  dear  Uncle 
Jerry,  as  long  as  the  old  stage  holds  together.  Good- 
night. (Exits  into  house.  Take  RED  LIGHTS  out.) 

(LADD  has  entered  from  around  house,  c.  from  R.J 

COBB.  (Turning  to  LADD,)  Seems  turrible  queer 
when  there's  so  many  twins  born  int'  the  world  that 


IO4        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIV 

Rebecca  couldn't  'a'  been  a  pair !  (The  LIGHT  has 
gradually  changed  from  twilight  to  moonlight,  which 
gradually  floods  the  scene.) 

LADD.  (Laughing)  I've  thought  of  that  more 
than  once.  I'm  looking  for  Rebecca's  twin,  too — a 
few  years  older.  If  I  could  find  her,  you'd  be  driv- 
ing me  on  my  wedding  trip  before  the  summer  was 
out. 

COBB.  Lessee !  I  never  druv  a  bride  an'  groom. 
Guess  they'd  be  terrible  dull  comp'ny. 

LADD.   Not  if  the  lady  were  Rebecca's  twin. 

COBB.  (Reflectively,  stroking  his  chin  and  look- 
ing at  LADD,)  I  s'pose  up  to  Boston  girls  like  her 
are  as  thick  as  blueb'ries? 

LADD.  (Smiling)  They  may  be,  only  I  don't 
happen  to  know  them.  (Slight  pause.) 

COBB.  (Looks  quizzical  and  chuckles)  What  did 
you  think  of  her  voice?  Anything  extry  about  it? 

LADD.  The  first  time  I  ever  heard  it,  I  stopped  to 
listen.  It  was  the  afternoon  you  brought  her  here. 
I  was  passing  just  behind  here  and  saw  her  stand- 
ing in  a  make-believe  tower,  telling  a  fairy  story  to 
the  other  children. 

COBB.  Well!  The  child's  finished  her  schoolin' 
an'  now  she'll  lay  up  in  that  great  four-poster  an' 
wonder  how  she  can  lift  that  mortgage. 

LADD.  (Looking  towards  house,  then  confiden- 
tially) No,  she  won't,  for  Sunnybrook  Farm  has 
been  sold  to  the  new  railroad.  Rebecca  can  pay  off 
the  mortgage  and  have  something  over. 

CORE.  Jee — roo — salum !  You  must  'a'  made  that 
trade,  Squire.  Well,  now,  that  will  ease  Mirandy's 
last  days.  Land!  But  I'm  glad  it's  all  fixed  up. 
(Starting)  I'll  go  home  an'  tell  Mother.  (Goes  to 
R.I — stops — comes  back)  No  harm  in  speaking  of 
it  so  long  as  Mrs.  Perkins  don't  hear? 

LADD.    None  at  all. 

COBB.   (Goes  to  R.  and  comes  back)   Say !  I've  got 


ACT  iv       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          105 

a  passel  o'  swamp  land  that  would  make  a  first  rate 
railroad ;  it's  so  wet  you  could  water  the  stock  o'  the 
corporation  right  on  the  spot. 

LADD.    (Amused)    All  right !    I'll  look  at  it. 

COBB.  (Goes  to  R.  and  comes  back,  nearer  to 
LADD,  confidentially)  Say!  You  'member  what  we 
said  'bout  that  there  twin  ? 

LADD.   Yes. 

COBB.  In  case  you  couldn't  find  her  right  away, 
how  'bout  waitin'  a  spell  for  this  one  to  'ketch  up? 

LADD.    It's  worth  considering. 

COBB.  (Chuckles,  looks  at  LADD,  turns,  with  back 
to  audience,  looks  at  REBECCA'S  window,  turns, 
shakes  LADD'S  hand)  I  guess  I'll  tell  Mother. 
(Exits  R.I.,) 

(BLUE  LIGHTS  come  up.) 

fLADD  stands  thoughtfully  a  second,  till  roused  by 
the  sound  of  the  opening  of  the  second  pair  of 
blinds  in  the  east  chamber.) 

REBECCA.  (Reaches  out  and  opens  the  first  one 
and  then  the  other  green  shutter,  fastening  them 
back.  She  leans  on  the  sill,  looking  out)  Oh,  it  was 
a  beautiful  day!  Mother  was  right — my  coming  to 
the  Brick  House  was  just  like  a  fairy  story. 

LADD.  (Sees  REBECCA,  smiles  and  draws  hastily 
back  under  the  shadow  of  a  tree.  Then  a  thought 
suddenly  crosses  his  mind.  He  steps  a  little  farther 
out  of  her  sight  and  smiling  to  himself,  calls  out 
rather  softly:)  "All-Fair,  All-Fair,  let  down  your 
long  hair!" 

REBECCA.  (Hears  a  voice  and  listens,  at  first 
uncomprehendingly.  Then  her  roguish  expression 
shows  she  knows  the  voice.  She  falls  at  once  into 
the  fairy  story  game.  She  quickly  unfastens  a  braid 
and  drops  it  over  the  window  sill,  leaning  out  in  a 
very  pretty  attitude,  and  says  half  laughing  and 


106        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIV 

and  wholly  delighted  with  the  play:)  Oh,  it's  you, 
Mr.  Aladdin !  And  the  Princess  let  down  the  braid 
of  her  hair,  and  behold  it  was  not  long  but  short, 
and  the  Prince  could  not  make  a  ladder  of  it.  So, 
coming  out  of  his  place  of  hiding,  he  called :  "All- 
Fair,  All-Fair,  come  down  the  broad  stair" 

fLADD  steps  out  into  the  light.)  And  straightway 
the  Princess  disappeared  from  the  window  and  flew 
down  to  join  him  in  the  palace  courtyard.  (She 
leaves  the  window  qui-ckly,  runs  lightly  and  swiftly 
down  the  stairs — seen  by  the  audience.  She  closes 
door  behind  her.  Putting  out  both  hands)  How 
d'y  do,  Mr.  Aladdin!  This  is  the  Palace  Court- 
yard. You  didn't  come  to  speak  to  me  after  the 
exercises.  Did  you  like  my  essay  ?  Did  I  read  slowly 
enough?  Wasn't  it  a  pity  the  aunts  couldn't  come? 
Wasn't  the  hay  cart  beautiful?  Was  there  ever  such 
a  lovely  day?  Didn't  the  girls  look  sweet  all  to- 
gether? Would  you  ever  have  known  my  dress  was 
cheesecloth?  (Pause.)  Please  stop  looking  at  me 
like  that,  Mr.  Aladdin !  (Has  hidden  her  face  and 
is  speaking  through  her  hands.)  What's  the  matter 
with  me? 

LADD.  Nothing — at  least  nothing  that  you  can 
help. 

REBECCA.  (Ruefully)  I  know  what  you're  think- 
ing. That  my  dress  touches,  I'm  pinched  in  round 
the  waist,  and  my  hair's  different. 

LADD.  (Half  sighing,  half  smiling)  I  am  rather 
afraid  of  grown-up  young  ladies  in  wonderful 
clothes.  They  frighten  me — and  I  don't  like  to  lose 
my  comforting  little  friend — unless  I  gain  some- 
thing better  in  her  place. 

REBECCA.  (Like  a  confident  child)  Well,  you 
can't  lose  me.  You'll  like  me  when  I'm  older  just  as 
well  as  you  do  now,  you  see  if  you  don't — you  shall ! 
(Puts  out  her  hands  again,  swinging  his  a  little.) 


ACT  rv       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          107 

LADD.  You're  so  awfully  slow  about  growing  up, 
somehow. 

REBECCA.  (With  spirit)  First  you  don't  want  me 
to  grow  up,  and  then  you  want  me  to  hurry. 
(Crosses  to  R.)  There  ought  to  be  two  of  me  to 
satisfy  you,  one  young  and  one  old. 

LADD.  I  should't  mind  that.  I  think  I  could  love 
seven  Rebeccas.  (This  gaily  and  experimentally. 
He  is  not  lover-like,  but  feeling  his  way  to  her  mood. 
REBECCA  hears  something  in  his  voice  that  makes 
her  take  her  hands  away  and  grow  a  little  more 
conscious  and  serious.  She  walks  towards  tree  seat 
R.  LADD  follows  her.) 

REBECCA.  (Sitting — looking  up  at  LADD)  Now 
I  think  of  it — you've  been  ever  so  many  different 
Mr.  Aladdins  to  me.  When  you  bought  the  soap, 
I  thought  you  were  Grandfather  Sawyer's  age; 
when  you  taught  me  "my  steps,"  that  made  you  seem 
like  my  father ;  when  you  showed  me  your  mother's 
picture  with  tears  in  your  eyes,  you  were  like  my 
brother — I  could  sympathize,  because  I've  had  so 
many  troubles  myself. 

LADD.    I  hope  yours  are  mostly  over. 

REBECCA.  I  suppose  they're  just  beginning.  The 
interest  is  due  again  on  that  de-test-able  mortgage. 
It  always  is.  The  morning  I  was  born  I  heard 
Mother  say  to  Father :  "Lorenzo  de  Medici  Randall, 
the  interest  ought  to  be  paid  today!" 

LADD.  I  can't  bear  to  rob  you  of  your  family 
burden,  but  your  mother  paid  off  that  mortgage 
yesterday. 

REBECCA.  (Stunned)  Paid  it?  Mother?  Then 
the  farm  is  sold  after  all? 

LADD.  (Lightly,  fencing  off  possible  gratitude) 
Sold  it  is,  ma'am.  Possession  to  be  given  in  six 
months.  The  money  over  and  above  the  mortgage 
to  be  put  in  the  bank.  I'm  sorry  it's  only  five  thous- 


io8        REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM        ACTIV 

and  dollars.  You  will  have  plenty  of  use  for  the 
millions  you  will  amass  by  teaching. 

REBECCA.  (Softly)  It  was  good  of  you,  dear  Mr. 
Aladdin !  (Rises,  goes  to  c.) 

LADD.  (Rises)  It  was  good  of  the  railway,  dear 
Miss  Rebecca. 

REBECCA.  (Turning  to  LADD)  What  should  I 
have  done  without  you? 

LADD.  You  never  seem  to  wonder  what  you  can 
do  with  me. 

REBECCA.  (Timidly — with  childish  tenderness  and 
no  self-consciousness)  Of  course  I've  been  only 
a  little  girl  till  just  now,  but  I'd  like  to  be  a  real 
friend  some  time. 

LADD.  (With  deep  feeling)  Do  you  know  what 
you  really  are  to  me,  child?  You  are  the  part  of 
life  I've  missed — you  are  my  little  springtime. 

REBECCA.  Am  I  that  to  you?  (Softly,  almost 
unable  to  believe  her  ears,  drawing  away  the  least 
bit.) 

LADD.  Just  that!  You  are  like  the  bud — the 
woman  in  the  child.  Your  sweet  little  friendship 
has  been  one  of  Aladdin's  lamps — a  more  magical 
one  than  his  money  by  far. 

REBECCA.  (Full  of  feeling — not  daring  to  look 
at  him,  going  nearer  steps,  but  saying  as  she  moves 
shyly  away)  Don't,  Mr.  Aladdin.  I  can't  get — used 
to  it — quite.  Everything  seems  different.  Some- 
thing frightens  me  and  makes  me  feel  all  grown  up. 

LADD.  (Following  to  her  side.  Goes  to  steps)  Do 
you  remember  in  the  red-covered  Arabian  Nights 
we  used  to  read  together:  "The  Princess  was  most 
beautiful;  her  looks  sweet  and  modest.  It  is  not, 
therefore,  surprising,  that  Aladdin,  who  was  a 
stranger  to  so  many  charms,  was  dazzled." 

REBECCA.  (Has  a  tremor  in  her  voice,  but  tries 
to  be  gay  and  no-nchalant;  mounts  a  step,  but  always 
faces  LADD,  even  when  her  eyes  are  cast  down)  Oh! 


ACT  iv       REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM          109 

You've  left  out  a  lot  of  the  Princess.  (Quoting) 
"Her  nose  was  without  a  fault ;  her  lips  a  vermillion 
red "  (Sighing)  They  do  make  them  so  beauti- 
ful in  fairy  stories!  (WARN  Curtain.) 

LADD.  (Quoting)  "Adorable  Princess,  said  Alad- 
din: If  I  have  displeased  you  by  my  boldness  in 
aspiring  to  the  hand  of  so  lovely  a  creature,  I  must 
tell  you  that  you  ought  to  blame  your  bright  eyes, 
not  me." 

REBECCA.  I  always  thought  that  was  so  pretty 
of  the  Prince. 

LADD.  What  the  Princess  said  was  every  bit  as 
pretty.  Do  you  remember? 

REBECCA.  (With  a  touch  of  embarrassment)  Do 
I  remember?  I've  told  it  to  Emma  Jane  dozens  of 
times. 

LADD.  (Mounting  step)  What  did  the  Princess 
say? 

REBECCA.  (Mounts  another  step  as  if  preparing 
to  escape  into  the  safety  of  the  house)  She  said — 
(Hesitatingly)  I — I  ought  to  go  in,  Mr.  Aladdin, 
Aunt  Miranda'll  be  wanting  me! 

LADD.  (Stepping  up  one  step)  Rebecca,  what  did 
the  Princess  say? 

REBECCA.  (Trembling  a  little,  shyly  and  very 
slowly)  That  Princess  said:  "Prince,  it  is  enough 
for  me  to  have  seen  you  to  tell  you  that  I  obey  with- 
out reluctance!" 

LADD.  (Who  must  not  be  too  lover-like)  And 
what  does  this  Princess  say? 

REBECCA.  She  says:  "Please,  Mr.  Aladdin,  will 
you  wait  just  a  little  while?" 

LADD.  I'll  wait.  Good-night,  little  Princess! 
(Kissing  her  hand.)  ' 

QUICK  CURTAIN 


REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM 
PROPERTY  PLOT 

ACT  I 
SCENE  I 

Barberry  bushes. 

Kitchen  table — work  basket,  three  chairs. 

Tree. 

Wood  chopping  block. 

Woodpile,  a  large  pile — all  to  be  used. 

Grindstone. 

Pump,  to   pump  water — two-quart  dipper  hanging 

on  pump. 

Small  kitchen  table. 
Water  spout  on  house. 
Lightning  rod  on  house. 
Large  pots  under  table  on  porch,  covers  of  these 

pots  to  be  used  by  children  for  shields. 
Woodbine  and  hop   vines  clambering  over  porch, 

shed,  water  spout  and  lightning  rod. 
Kindling  wood  by  pile  of  stickins — two  armfuls. 
Spring  screen  door  from  porch  to  kitchen. 
Upper  half  of  hall  clock  on  chair  R.  of  table. 
Small  green  apples  in  trees. 
Chairs. 

Frame  of  grindstone,  painted  bright  crude  blue. 
Barberry  bushes  so  made  that  towels  can  be  spread 

on  them  to  dry. 
Axe  for  Abijah  Flagg. 
Hand  mop  and  bucket,  for  Mrs.  Simpson. 
Tin  pans  inside  house,  for  Miranda  to  slat  down. 
Small  screw-driver,  for  Simpson  to  carry  in  pocket. 
no 


PROPERTY  PLOT  III 

Large  pans,  for  Miranda,  inside  house. 

Wet  towels,  in  pan. 

Earthen  crock,  for  Jane. 

A  little  red  tomato  pin  cushion  in  work-basket  on 

table.    Thread,  needles,  thimble  and  a  piece  of 

sewing  also  in  basket. 
Letter,  for  Jane. 
Gingham  dress  (to  fit  Emma  Jane)  and  a  pair  of 

scissors,  for  Mrs.  Perkins. 
Wash  basket  on  porch — in  it  laundry  to  dampen. 

Dark  calico  dress  and  lace  curtain  must  be  in 

basket. 

Braided  mat,  for  Mrs.  Simpson,  in  house. 
Apron  to  roll  up,  for  Mrs.  Simpson. 
Key  to  kitchen  door. 
A  few  stones  by  porch  step. 
A  bundle  of  bean  poles,  for  Simpson.. 
Stage  coach  of  old  Concord  pattern. 
Horses,  harnessed,  pulling  stage  coach. 
Small  hair  trunk  strapped  to  the  back  of  stage  coach, 

old  fashioned  in  model,  covered  with  horse  hide 

and  bound  with  worn  leather  straps. 
Fuller's  earth  to  powder  Cobb  with  in  entrance  L.U.S. 
Bunch  of  faded  pink  flowers,  for  Rebecca. 
Bead  purse,  with  snap. 

Little  pink  parasol,  with  ivory  handle,  for  Rebecca. 
Faggot  broom  by  woodshed. 
Supper  bell,  thunder  drum,  and  also  effect  for  clap 

of  thunder. 

ACT  I 

SCENE  II 

Table  and  two  chairs. 

Cupboard,   wider  at  base  than  at  top  part-— with 

doors. 
Grandfather's  clock. 


ii2  PROPERTY  PLOT 

Rocking  chair. 

Wood-box  and  stove  wood. 

Stove — teakettle,  to  steam — teapot,  frying-pan,  with 

hash  to  eat  in  it — on  stove. 
Sink  and  small  iron  pump. 
Above  sink,  strip  with  hooks,  on  which  hangs :  Egg 

beater,  nutmeg  grater,  two  long  handled  spoons, 

tin  collander,  tin  saucepan. 
Shades  on  windows  (green). 

High-back  rocker,  with  bright  calico  cushion  seat. 
Wooden  footstool. 
On  floor,  braided  and  rag  carpet  mats :  One  in  front 

of  sink,  one  in  front  of  stove,  one  large  one  in 

c.,  one  in  front  of  cupboard. 
Mug  on  woodbox  for  spills. 
Kitchen  chairs. 

Table  in  c.,  covered  with  white  oilcloth. 
Plates,  knives,  forks,  spoons,  cups  and  saucers  for 

two,  on  table. 

Sugar  bowl,  milk  pitcher,  butter  dish,  over  dish. 
Caster,    with    mustard,    vinegar,    pepper    and    salt 

holders. 
Half  an  apple  pie,  dish  of  preserves,  plate  of  cold 

biscuits.    (All  to  eat  on  table.) 

The  whole  table  is  covered  with  a  square  of  mos- 
quito netting,  white. 
Distant  thunder  ready  off  L. 
Strips  of  newspaper  to  make  spills,  for  Cobb. 
Spoon  in  frying  pan  to  stir  hash  with. 
Hash  must  be  hot. 
Big  bandanna  handkerchief,  for  Cobb. 
Pipe,  tobacco  pouch  and  tobacco,  for  Cobb. 

ACT  II 

Table  and  two  chairs  and  footstool. 
Flower  bed — Astoria,  Dahlias,  etc. 
Lilac  bushes. 


PROPERTY  PLOT  113 

Mattress,  for  Rebecca  to  fall  on. 

Wagon.  In  wagon,  box  without  cover,  filled  to  the 
top  with  small  paper  soap  boxes. 

This  box  is  one  half  white  and  one  half  red  card 
board  labelled,  Excelsior  Soap. 

Two  of  the  small  boxes,  one  red  and  one  white, 
must  have  soap  in  them. 

About  a  dozen  brilliantly  colored  descriptive  cata- 
logues in  wagon. 

Woodbine  climbing  porch  posts. 

Watering  trough,  with  water. 

A  large  paper  bag,  crumpled  up,  lies  by  porch. 

Effect  of  cow  bells  (distant)  heard  off  L. 

Cradle  overhead  with  autumn  leaves  to  fall. 

Large  lunch  basket  is  in  wagon. 

Three  newspapers  (folded)  are  thrown  on  from  R. 
on  to  porch  L.C. 

Water  bucket,  to  water  horse,  for  Cobb. 

In  lunch  basket:  Two  napkins,  four  cup  custards, 
four  sandwiches,  four  doughnuts,  four  bis- 
cuits, four  hard-boiled  eggs,  one  bottle  of  milk, 
two  tin  cups,  one  small  paper  of  pepper,  one 
small  paper  of  salt,  four  pieces  of  pie. 

Double  barrel  shot-gun,  for  Ladd. 

Hunting  bag  over  shoulder,  for  Ladd. 

Pipe,  tobacco  pouch,  tobacco,  matches,  for  Ladd. 

Laundry  basket,  with  laundry  cover  over  it,  for 
Mrs.  Simpson. 

Letter  for  Ladd. 

Hatchet  for  Ladd. 

Two  boxes  of  soap— one  white,  one  red — for 
Rebecca. 

Pencil— for  Ladd. 

Duplicate  of  Rebecca's  hat,  Act  I,  all  wet  and  ruined 
— for  Simpson. 

ACT  III 
Pile  of  pumpkins  and  squashes — four  practical. 


1 14  PROPERTY  PLOT 

Pile  of  corn  ears,  with  husks  on. 

Two  bushel  baskets  of  red  apples  (ten  practical.) 

Chair  and  large  basket  of  shell  beans  (practical). 

Grindstone. 

Old  sleigh. 

Old  spinning  wheel. 

Pine  table  and  chair. 

Rough  bench  with  blank  top. 

Scrap  box. 

Chopping,  block. 

Hay  in  hay  mow — some  practical,  to  slide  on  floor, 
for  Rebecca. 

One  U.S.  Bunting  Flag,  eight  feet  long,  for  Cobb. 

One  tin  pan,  large,  fairly  deep,  for  Miranda. 

One  medium  kitchen  knife. 

One  blank  book,  medium  size,  for  Rebecca. 

One  lead  pencil. 

One  white  child's  petticoat,  lace  to  sew  on  ruffles, 
for  Mrs.  Perkins. 

One  package  of  number  seven  needles,  for  Jane  and 
Mrs.  Perkins. 

Two  spools  of  sixty  white  cotton,  for  Jane  and 
Mrs.  Perkins. 

One  piece  of  narrow  red  ribbon,  one  piece  of  nar- 
row white  ribbon  and  one  piece  of  narrow  blue 
ribbon  (in  one  sewing  basket,  for  Jane.) 

One  broom,  for  Miranda. 

One  large  worn  feather  duster,  for  Jane. 

One  medium  sized  clothes  basket  on  wheels,  with 
shaft  for  pulling,  used  for  a  baby  carriage,  for 
Rebecca  and  Mrs.  Simpson. 

One  pillow  for  baby  to  lie  on,  in  basket. 

One  poor  threadbare  coverlet,  in  basket. 

One  property  baby,  with  bonnet  on — the  baby  poorly 
dressed — in  basket. 

One  miniature  daguerreotype,  for  Ladd. 

One  wedding  ring,  for  Ladd. 


PROPERTY  PLOT  llg 

One  long  chain  of  large  beads,  cut  with  knife  from 
brown  pine  bark,  with  a  locket  out  for  Simp- 
son. 

ACT  IV 

Hall  clock. 

Seat  around  tree.   Bushes  under  the  seat. 

High-backed  rocker  and  wooden  stool. 

Patchwork  cushion. 

Small  rush  bottomed  chair. 

Knitting,    for    Miranda — (needles,    ball    of    wool, 

stocking). 
Essay  (a  package  of  small  sheets  tied  at  top  with 

bright  ribbon,  for  Rebecca.) 
Satchel,  for  Rebecca. 
Wreath,  so  arranged  as  to  appear  as  if  Ladd 

it  out  of  leaves  during  scene. 


ELECTRIC  PLOT 
ACT  I 

Boarders  and  foots  at  opening  on  full. 

When  coach  comes  off  on  right  stage,  start  to  dim 
very  slowly  the  borders  and  foots,  and  when 
Rebecca  stands  to  tell  the  fairy  tale,  put  on  blue 
borders,  then  dim  the  foots  and  borders  off, 
and  then  dim  the  blues  and  have  them  nearly 
off  by  the  time  the  rain  starts. 

At  cue,  when  the  black  drop  is  down,  put  on 
enough  light  to  see  to  strike,  and  then  at  cue 
lights  out. 

At  cue,  foots  and  first  border  up  full. 

IMPORTANT:  Stage  must  be  perfectly  dark 
when  rain  is  on,  all  lights  must  be  off,  and  front 
of  house  must  be  dark  while  rain  is  on. 

ACT  II 
Everything  up  full,  and  runs  the  act 

ACT  III 
Everything  up  full,  and  runs  the  act 

ACT  IV 

At  opening,  borders  and  foots  up  full — that  is,  the 
foots  and  first  and  second  borders;  the  rest 
are  out.  When  Rebecca  puts  head  out  of  win- 
dow, start  in  to  dim  very  slowly  about  half, 
and  then  leave  until  finish  of  act. 


"REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM" 

PUBLICITY  THROUGH  YOUR  LOCAL 
PAPERS 

The  press  can  be  an  immense  help  in  giving  pub- 
licity to  your  productions.  In  order  to  assist  you,  we 
are  printing  below  a  number  of  suggested  press  notes 
which  may  be  used  either  as  they  stand  or  changed 
to  suit  your  own  ideas  and  submitted  to  the  local 
press. 

SYNOPSIS 

The  mother  of  Rebecca  Rowena  Randall  of  Sun- 
nybrook  Farm  is  burdened  with  a  large  family  and  a 
mortgage.  She  is  much  relieved  when  her  more  afflu- 
ent relatives,  Aunts  Miranda  and  Jane,  offer  to  take 
Rebecca  off  her  hands  to  train  and  educate  her.  Re- 
becca is  a  lovable  child,  although  quite  a  bit  differ- 
ent from  her  Aunt  Miranda's  rigid  standards. 

At  first  she  runs  away  from  the  tyranny  of  her 
aunt,  but  returns  at  the  subtle  suggestion  of  Jerry 
Cobb,  the  dear  old  stage  driver.  There  is  Latin 
blood  in  Rebecca  and  she  will  have  her  outbursts.  As 
time  goes  on  the  child  wins  her  way  slowly  into  the 
heart  of  Miranda,  just  as  she  does  with  all  who1 
come  in  contact  with  her.  There  is  also  the  sugges- 
tion of  a  future  love  cleverly  woven  into  the  plot 
— also  many  of  the  quaint  pastimes  of  old  Maine 
are  presented  for  the  beholder's  delight. 

The  State  of  Maine  and  its  people  were  familiar 
subjects  for  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin  and  "Rebecca  of 
117 


n8  PRESS  MATTER 

Sunnybrook  Farm"  is  filled  with  the  charming  at- 
mosphere of  the  place  as  well  as  the  quaint,  whole- 
some characters  to  be  found  there. 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Wiggin's  favorite  among  all  her 
character  creations  is  the  lovely,  volatile  Rebecca.  At 
any  rate  the  little  girl  is  an  immense  favorite  with 
thousands  of  American  readers  and  playgoers. 

This  play  was  first  produced  at  The  Republic 
Theatre,  New  York,  with  such  luminaries  as  Edith 
Taliaferro,  Ernest  Truex  and  Archie  Boyd.  The 
simplicity  of  its  treatment  and  the  wholesome  sweet- 
ness of  its  story  soon  established  this  play  as  an  out- 
standing success  of  the  time. 

The  Players  will  present  Rebecca  in 

all  her  glory  at Theatre eve- 
ning and  a  delightful  trip  to  dear  old  Maine  is  prom- 
ised to  all  lovers  of  clean  drama. 


The  rural  drama  always  has  been  and  always  will 
be  a  favorite  form  of  American  theatrical  diversion. 
The  picturesque  old  State  of  Maine  has  been  the 
locale  chosen  by  America's  most  successful  writers 
of  this  form  of  drama — among  them  being  James 
A.  Herne,  Joseph  C.  Lincoln.  Sidney  Howard,  and 
the  great  American  woman  writer,  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin. 

There,  in  these  tranquil  surroundings — abundantly 
blessed  by  nature  with  scenery  and  fresh  air — we 
find  these  charming  Down  East  Yankees  living  out 
their  lives  with  all  the  joys  and  sorrows  attendant 
to  the  lives  of  human  beings. 

Little  Rebecca  seems  different  from  the  rest,  as 
she  has  inherited  an  infiltration  of  Latin  blood  which 
stimulates  her  impetuosity  and  heightens  her  charm. 
Dear  old  Uncle  Jerry  Cobb  is  a  joy  to  the  soul,  and 
Aunts  Miranda  and  Jane  are  typical  salt-of-the-earth 
old  maids,  grappling  with  life's  problems  courageous- 
ly and  well. 


PRESS  MATTER  119 

The  atmosphere  of  "The  Pine  Tree  State,"  when 
translated  to  the  stage,  brings  untold  joy  to  an  audi- 
ence, and  in  this  respect  Rebecca  of  Sunnybrook 
Farm,  has  no  equal,  and  its  author,  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin,  has  no  master. 

The Players  present  this  charming 

comedy  at  the  Theatre  on  

evening.  Since  the  motto  of  the  State  of  Maine  is 

"I  direct" — the Players  have  adopted  the 

motto  and  direct  you  to  attend  their  performance. 


NOTE  ON   PRODUCTION 

If  your  scenic  equipment  is  not  sufficiently  large 
for  the  entire  play,  Act  IV  can  be  played  in  Act  I, 
Scene  I,  setting. 


120 


pi 


1     01 


NOTHING  BUT~THE  TRUTH 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  James  Montgomery.  5  males, 
6  females.  Modern  costumes.  2  interiors.  Plays  2%  hours. 

Is  it  possible  to  tell  the  absolute  truth — even  for  twenty-four 
hours?  It  is — at  least  Bob  Bennett,  the  hero  of  "Nothing  but 
the  Truth,"  accomplished  the  feat.  The  bet  he  made  with  his 
partners,  his  friends,  and  his  fiancee — these  are  the  incidents  in 
William  Collier's  tremendous  comedy  hit.  "Nothing  but  the 
ffruth"  can  be  whole-heartedly  recommended  as  one  of  the  most 
Sprightly,  amusing  and  popular  comedies  of  which  this  country 
can  boast.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents, 

SEVENTEEN 

A  comedy  of  youth,  in  4  acts.  By  Booth  Tarkjngton. 
8  males,  6  females.  1  exterior,  2  interior  scenes.  Costumes, 
modern.  Plays  2%  hours. 

It  is  the  tragedy  of  William  Sylvanus  Baxter  that  he  has  ceased 
to  be  sixteen  and  is  not  yet  eighteen.  Baby,  child,  boy,  youth 
And  grown-up  are  definite  phenomena.  The  world  knows  them  and 
has  learned  to  put  up  with  them.  Seventeen  is  not  an  age,  it  is  a 
disease.  In  its  turbulent  bosom  the  leavings  of  a  boy  are  at  war 
>rith  the  beginnings  of  a  man. 

In  his  heart,  William  Sylvanus  Baxter  knows  all  the  tortures 
And  delights  of  love ;  he  is  capable  of  any  of  the  heroisms  of  his 
heroic  sex.  But  he  is  still  sent  on  the  most  humiliating  errands 
by  his  mother,  and  depends  upon  his  father  for  the  last  nickel 
of  spending  money. 

Silly  Bill  fell  in  love  with  Lolo,  the  Baby-Talk  Lady,  a  vapid 
If  amiable  little  flirt.  To  woo  her  in  a  manner  worthy  of  himself 
(and  incidentally  of  her)  he  stole  his  father's  evening  clothes. 
When  his  wooings  became  a  nuisance  to  the  neighborhood,  hia 
mother  stole  the  clothes  back,  and  had  them  altered  to  fit  the 
middle-aged  form  of  her  husband,  thereby  keeping  William  at 
home  in  the  evening. 

But  when  it  came  to  the  Baby-Talk  Lady's  good-bye  dance,  not 
to  be  present  was  unendurable.  How  William  Sylvanus  again 
got  the  dress  suit,  and  how  as  he  was  wearing  it  at  the  party  the 
negro  servant,  Gtenesis,  disclosed  the  fact  that  the  proud  garment 
was  in  reality  his  father's,  are  some  of  the  elements  in  thi* 
charming  comedy  of  youth. 

"Seventeen"  is  a  story  of  youth,  love  and  summer  time.  It  is 
a  work  of  exquisite  human  sympathy  and  delicious  humor.  Pro* 
duced  by  Stuart  Walker  at  the  Booth  Theatre,  New  York,  it  en- 
joyed a  run  of  four  years  in  New  York  and  on  the  road.  Strongly 
recommended  for  High  School  production.  (Royalty,  twenty-fivq 
dollars.)  Price,  75  CeniSa 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Kew  and  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  Free  on  BequesS 


JLHB  YOU.  A  MASOHr 


ftoee  in  9  acts.    By  Leo  Ditrichstein.    7  males,  f  fe': 
J^dn,    Modern  costumes.    Plays  2*4  hours.    1  interior, 

"Are  Yon  a   Mason  I"   is  one  of  those  delightful  farces  iii: 
rley'B    Aunt"    that   are   always   fresh.      "A   mother   and   £ 
laughter,"   says  the  critic  of  the  New  York  Herald,     "had  hut 
;<&nds    who    account    for    absences    from    the    joint    household    r.z 
Sequent   evenings,   falsely   pretending   to    be    Masons.      The   mei 
£o  not  know  each  other's   duplicity,   and   each  tells   his   wife  ei 
laving  advanced  to  leadership   in   his   lodge.      The   older  womar 
•yaa  so  well  pleased  with  her  husband's  supposed  distinct', 
She  order  that  she  made  him  promise  to  put  up  the  name  of  ( 
Visiting    friend    for    membership.      Further    perplexity    ov 
principal  liar  arose  when  a  suitor  for  his  second  daughter' 
proved  to  be  a  real   Mason.  ...  To   tell  the   story   of   ti: 
irould  require  volumes,  its  complications  are  so  numerous.     It  it 
i  house  of  cards.     One  card  wrongly  placed  and  the  whole  thin; 
would   collapse.      But   i»    stands,    an    example    of   remarkable    ic 
gaauity.     You  wonder  at  the  end  of  the  first  act  how  t 
eftffi  be  kept  up  on  such  a  slender  foundation.     But  it  continue: 
aad  grows    to   the   last   curtain."      One   of   the   most   hih-.. 
wsoei&g   farces   ever    written,    especially    suited   to    schoc: 
ifoeonic  Lodges     ( Royalty,  twenty-five  dolterfi.)      Prise,  75  OenU. 


KEMPY 

A  delightful  comedy  In  8  acts.  By  3.  CX  Kcgent  am 
Slliott  Nugent.  4  males,  4  females.  1  interior  throughosv 
Cfestumes,  modern.  Plays  2%  hours. 

No  wonder  "Kempy"  uas  been  such  a  tremendous  r. 
York,  Chicago — wherever  it  has  played.  It  snaps  with  wit  »aJ 
iramor  of  the  most  delightful  kind.  It'»  electric.  It'fc  «m»E 
town  folk  perfectly  pictured.  Full  of  types  of  varied  sorts,  eac:' 
one  done  to  a  turn  and  served  with  zestful  sauce.  An  ides 
sntertainmect  for  amusement  purposes.  The  story  is  about  a  higt 
falutin'  daughter  who  in  a  fit  of  pique  marries  the  young  plumbes 
STchitect,  who  comes  to  fix  the  water  pipes,  just  b> 

inds"  her,  having  read  her  book  and  having  sworn  te 
marry  the  authoress.  But  in  that  story  lies  all  the  humor  taa- 
fcept  the  audience  laughing  every  second  of  every  act.  Of  court, 
fhore  are  lots  of  ramifications,  each  of  which  bears  its  own  bnxf 
Of  laughter-making  potentials.  But  the  plot  and  the  story  we 
Sot  the  main  things.  There  is.  for  instance,  the  work  of  tin: 
•ompany.  The  fun  growing  out  of  this  family  mixap  is  lively  an* 
Sean.  (Royalty,  *wenty-flve  dollars.)  Pries,  75  CenSii 


FRENCH.  M  W««*  4Wb  M*«0t.  H«r  T«A  Ofcy 
'<nr  and  KxpUott  D««srlptfv« 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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